


lay beside me, under wicked sky

by shellebelle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caretaking, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Pegging, Threesome - F/M/M, dunkin donuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellebelle/pseuds/shellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is DIRK STRIDER and you are on your way to New York State for the second time this year, to see your <s>friend</s> <s>lover</s> friend ROXY LALONDE, who is too drunk to care about correcting her misspellings during Pesterchum chats. </p><p> </p><p> Therefore, you know it must be pretty bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ==>Dirk's computer: PINKWHITEPINKWHITEPINKWHITEPINK...

==>Dirk's computer: PINKWHITEPINKWHITEPINKWHITEPINK...

 Your name is DIRK STRIDER and you are twenty-two years old. You own a ROBOTICS CONSULTING FIRM and you are, in general, FAIRLY HAPPY with your life. You and your three best friends played a GAME not so very long ago, which you won (for a certain value of winning), but not without paying a heavy price in LOST SLEEP, NIGHTMARES, and SOCIAL WITHDRAWAL. 

You're back from a long day of meeting with investors when you notice that your Pesterchum viewscreen is blinking pink-white-pink-white over and over. That color scheme alarm can only be one person, so you don't even bother to put down your car keys.

**\-- TimaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] –**

**TT: Roxy. What's going on?**

**TG: dikr, I cant cant. Please.**

You sigh, and yet your heart speeds up at the same time. She needs help. She needs _you._ She's almost incoherent. 

**TG: I need u**

**TT: What the hell have you been doing?**

**TG: what do you thikn I been doing**

**TG: drk I just c't anymore.**

**TG: pls come plx**

**TT: Roxy, just calm down. Breathe.**

**TG: ...**

**  
**

**

The first time you did this, you were fourteen, and you'd been an orphan for three months. Despite being devastated that your brother was gone, that you were now all alone with only robots for company, you kept contact with your friends over Pesterchum, because you needed that contact, at least. And even if you were sobbing your eyes out, you could usually keep up your regular banter online. 

Or not. 

With these three, it really didn't matter. 

And one day, Roxy didn't come online till late, and she definitely wasn't as chatty as usual. You had opened up a group chat, and then she came out with it: 

 

**TG: my mom's dead.**

**  
**

It wasn't even misspelled. 

Over that night as you all tried to help her through, her typing became worse and worse. All of you knew that she imbibed upon occasion, but as her typing became less legible, the others started opening up other Pesterchum windows to express their worries to you. 

You'd volunteered to fly up to New York, because you had access to money, and you had no one telling you where to go or what to do. You'd put on your Auto-Responder and told the others that you were going, and left. 

You love all of your friends, of course. They're all great in different ways. But you and Roxy were special, not that you were in love with her, but just that you seemed to be the same in many ways. There was a bond there that went beyond friendship. Even if Jane had volunteered to go (even if her dad would have allowed it), you don't think you would have let her go alone. 

You had to see how she was for yourself. 

The taxi had dropped you off at her door, and you went up and knocked. The house looked eerily dark, and that made you even more worried than you had been before. You pulled out your phone to find about fifty frantic messages, all along the lines of: **ROXY STOPPED TALKING TO US AN HOUR AGO, ARE YOU THERE YET???**

You try the door, which is unlocked. You try to reassure yourself that nothing is wrong as you walk into the cold, dark house, looking for your friend. You found her passed out in a puddle of her own vomit on the floor of her room. 

 

**TT: found her. Taking care of things now.**

 

You'd stayed for a week, and discovered a few things about yourself, and Roxy. 

The first thing was that you really, really enjoyed taking care of another person. It gave you a pleasant feeling, warm and happy. It was the _best_ feeling. 

The second thing was that Roxy was really, really affectionate, not just when she was drunk, but all the time. More often than not, you and she slept in the same bed, curled together. Sometimes, you stayed there all day, only getting up to go to the bathroom or make food. 

The third thing was that both of you were very, very lonely, and you got along really well together. 

Before you left, you promised her that you would always, always be there if she needed him, and she'd kissed you, soft and sweet and sober. 

 

As first kisses went, it was really 

 

really

 

wonderful. 

 

Since that first time, you'd gone back when she needed you, which was usually about three times a year. Each time, you learned how to take care of Roxy better, so you could do whatever she needed you to do for her. Even though you like boys, there was something about taking care of Roxy that did it for you, and you always returned the favor. 

 


	2. ==>Dirk: get Roxy to talk to you

==>Dirk: get Roxy to talk to you

Now, several years later, things are different, but very much the same, too. You worry about her. Even though it makes you feel good to care for her, you don't want her to be hurting this much. 

**TT: Hey roxy**

**TT: Hey**

**TT: You there?**

**TG: yah**

**TG: riakfd;j here**

**TG: like a boss**

**TG: whn u comn up?**

When she doesn't correct her misspellings, you know that it's bad. 

  **TT: Get on the video chat, Roxy.**

**TT: I want to see you.**

**TG: k**

You turn on your webcam and wait for her to come online. 

She looks like hell. 

Her mascara is streaked down and her hair is messy. Her eyes are red and you can see the room behind her and it's a mess too. “What the fuck is going on, Lalonde?” 

Her lower lip wobbles. “So lonely, Dirk, sorry. I try but...but...” She looks so _lost,_ for a moment, staring into the camera at you, her pink eyes wide and utterly, utterly lost. She drops her gaze to her lap. “I...” She swallowed. “I went out tonight and it didn' go well.” She pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “Please come.” 

You blink at her. “What the fuck are you telling me, Lalonde?” If someone hurt her you will  _end_ them! 

Her face crumples. “Just...please come.” She draws her sleeve across her nose. _Jesus._ “Please.” 

You sigh. “Okay, Roxy, just...sit tight. Four hours, okay, I can't flashstep and fly at the same time...” You wish you could. You hate the thought of her being alone. You hate the thought that someone might have hurt her. You want to cradle her in your arms and take care of her and make sure no one ever hurts her again. You can't stop her from drinking and you wish you could. You should be able to! You sigh again. “And no drinking. Nothing but water, Roxy, y'hear me?” 

She nods, fresh tears flowing down her face. “Okay, I promise.” 

“Okay, going to pack now.” You leave the webcam running as you flashstep to pack your shit. You have 'go bags' full of stuff that you need for tending to Roxy, and you grab two of them. You haul out your duffel bag and start throwing clothes for a week in. Roxy is watching you do this, her chin on her knees. You check for your drivers' license, your pilot's license, your passport, keys and money. 

You look over at the webcam when you're ready to go. “Gotta dismantle the set up here, babe. Just sit tight, I'll be there as soon as I can.” 

She nods and goes to turn off the webcam. 

You pack up your gear. You're out the door in five minutes. 

 

==>Dirk: time to fly

Your name is DIRK STRIDER, and you are twenty-two years old. You are NOT A HETEROSEXUAL but you do love ROXY LALONDE, because she's _Roxy_ , goddammit, and because she needs you. And you like taking care of people who need you. Perhaps a little too much.  


You fly your small aircraft in a bee-line to an equally small airport in New York State, and they know you there. They call you “Mr. Strider” unironically, and you accept it. You had called to make sure a car was waiting for you. There is, and you take it. 

It's three in the morning. You have a key to Roxy's house. There's one light on, in a room you know is hers. You go right in, and as you assumed, the security isn't on. As soon as the door shuts, she calls out: “Dirk?” And then you hear her feet on the stairs. You didn't expect her to run to meet you, but you turn to catch her in your arms as she stumbles into you. “Whoa, girl...” And then she's crying and clinging and you hold her and try to calm her down. “I'm here now.” She presses her ear to your chest. You know she likes to listen to your voice rumble through your chest, and you shiver. “I'm gonna take real good care of you. C'mon, baby.” You lead her back upstairs and into the bathroom. 

It's a disaster in there too. You wonder why she doesn't just hire a fucking maid. You sit her on the lid of the closed toilet and begin to do a fast clean of the tub, because you're not giving Roxy a bath in a filthy bathtub. “What happened tonight?” 

“I was just so lonely, Dirk. I mean, I just went to the club, you know, and I was havin a good time, just drinking and bumping and grinding and then things went...you know, wrong? I ended up struggling with some asshole in the parking lot and I think I proly beaned him with a bottle or somethin. He hurt me pretty bad but I didn't need the hospital.” 

You sigh. _How does she fucking judge whether or not she needs the hospital?_ “Where'd he hurt you?” You turn back to scrub and rinse out the tub. 

“Stomach. Also, I got bruises on my arms.” Her voice sounds deadened. It kills you to hear her that way. You turn on the taps and run the water in hot. 

“Come on. Let me look at you.” You help her stand and kick off her stupid high shoes, then you help her off with her shirt and skirt. Your mouth presses in a straight line as you see bruises on her arms and belly. You press gently on her stomach and ask her to breathe in, to see where she hurts. “Well, I don't think anything's broken...” You cup her face in your hands and wipe off some of the streaked mascara with your thumb. “Come on. Let me take care of you now.” 

She nods eagerly and you help her into the bathtub. “Lie back in the water,” you murmur, and help her. “Just relax.” You work on her face first, gently using a cotton ball and cleanser to take off her streaked and wrecked makeup. She whimpered and sniffled a little because apparently, she'd gotten hit in the face once; the streaked makeup had hidden the mark. “Sssshhhh,” you say softly. 

She's beautiful when she needs you. Your heart does a thud in your chest as you gently wash her hair, wash the sweat and fear off of her body. You run more water in to rinse her off, condition her hair. She needs tending: She needs to shave, her eyebrows have grown in and her bikini area needs waxing. As you pat her body dry, you ask gently, “When was the last time you really took care of yourself?” 

She shrugs, sniffling again. “I don't know. Dirk, maybe...maybe I just like when you take care of me.” 

Roxy is tiny, and your hands look huge on her shoulders. The fact that even if she is strong, you are still stronger is one that never quite leaves your mind. Another one is _how could anyone hurt her?_ You wrap the towel around her body and put your arm around her. You comb her hair and make her brush her teeth. “Come here, sweetheart,” you say, and lead her into the guest room. 

The guest room because at least that one will be neat, and the last thing Roxy needs is _clutter_ when she's in this state. You sit her on the bed and go to get your bags and bring them up.  “What do you want, baby?” Your voice is low and soft, and her eyes seem to darken as you look at her. She gives a full body shudder and huddles in closer to you. 

“Your shirt.” 

You take it off without hesitation and slip it over Roxy's head. It's large for her, and pools in her lap, though her breasts push at the fabric. She looks much younger with her face fresh scrubbed, her hair unstyled. Roxy pulls the neckline over her mouth and nose. She's precious like this, and you stand up and help her into bed. “Come in with me,” she asks, catching your wrist. 

You go around to the other side of the bed and undress the rest of the way to your boxer shorts, and take off your shades. It's cold here, and you hike the covers right up to your ears, and then there's Roxy pressed against you, her forehead pressed to your chest, her legs tangling over yours and her arms around you.

“God, you're _warm_ ,” she murmurs, shaking. 

“That's what happens when you live all your life in the hotbox of America, sweetheart.” You card your fingers through her hair. It's like spun silk, so soft. “Y'know, it's not necessary to get y'self beat up in a nightclub to get me to come take care of you.” You let your drawl come out more when she and you are together. 

“I really didn't mean to, you know.” She sniffles and snuggles closer. 

“I know. But you know how I like to take care of you. I'll come down any time.” You are completely serious about this. You've contemplated moving to New York _specifically_ to take care of her. 

“You have to be free if Jake wants you. Can't spend all your time with your spinster friend.” 

“Fuck, Lalonde, you're only twenty-two. Stop talking as if you'll never find anyone.” You rub her back gently, smoothly. Her hair smells good. “Jake might never want me. He doesn't have to, you know.” 

“Bluh,” she murmured. “I'd marry you in a split second if I could.” 

You smile against her hair. “We got plenty of time to see what happens, Roxy.” You tilt her chin up and kiss her tenderly. She makes another of those full-body shudders and the way she kisses back is just... _gorgeous_ , it's the only single word for it. It's like eating the best chocolate you've ever eaten, sweet and smooth and when it's gone, you just want _more_. 

It's not like both of you weren't expecting sloppy makeouts anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fic title is a line from "Unforgiven 2" by Metallica. 
> 
> ...shut up. :)


	3. ==>Roxy: Wake up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...this is where the smut lives, people. There will be more.

Your name is ROXY LALONDE and you are twenty-two years old. Currently you are waking up in VERY STRANGE CIRCUMSTANCES. Usually, this takes place on your COMPUTER TABLE, sometimes even on your KEYBOARD. Other common places for you to wake up include: the BATHTUB, the BATHROOM FLOOR, or even your CAR. 

Very rarely are you in a bed. So when you wake up and you are warm and comfortable, with clean hair tumbled over your face, you are completely disoriented. You don't move right away; for one thing, you are aching so much that you aren't quite sure if you want to move at all. 

And then a familiar pale, freckled arm comes around your shoulders and you let out your breath. Dirk is here and you can relax.

His face is snuggled in the crook of your neck, his arm is strong around you, and his morning erection is pressed against your ass. You wriggle back into him and he makes a soft, sleepy sound before tugging you closer and slinging his leg around yours. You can feel him pressing closer; you are not wearing underwear, just Dirk's shirt. 

“Oh god,” you whimper, and you hate the way your voice is trembling and they way you sound so fucking _needy_...but that's the point of him being here, in your bed, isn't it? Because you needed him. 

“Sssh, Roxy...” His voice is heavy and sleepy. He strokes your hair and you sigh. It just feels so _good_ to be taken care of, cared _for._ It feels so good to be touched, having someone touch you as if you're some precious fucking breakable thing (which you are) and making no demands, no requests other than you _let_ him. He never makes the first move, not at first, and every moment you're together requires your _consent._

You push your head into his hand, while his other hand cups your breast over the shirt you're wearing. You sigh softly, a contented moan, and wriggle back against him, not grinding, just firm. The hand on your breast goes down to stroke your hip, soothing, soft. “Every little thing is gonna be all right, babydoll,” he murmurs in your ear. “You tell me what you want. I'll do it.” 

You love the way he pets you, you love the stupid little names he gives you. In the game, it made you laugh, because you both knew how much he adored Jake (and still does). But now it makes you _melt._ You let out a breath that stutters on its way out of you, and Dirk keeps stroking your bare hip with a soft, warm hand. 

You barely have to think about it. “More...more stroking.” You wriggle closer. “Everywhere.” No one touches you, not really, not like he does. Sure, you have sex with guys, you have one night stands; they scratch an itch, but usually they're regrettable and lousy. They don't _touch you._ They're just faceless, nameless guys and you forget them as soon as you leave. And they forget you.

But this is Dirk, and Dirk is different. For one thing, you love him. 

He lifts at the shirt to remove it, and you help him. Once the shirt is gone, his hands are everywhere. Just stroking. From your neck to your ass, from your collarbone to your hips, thighs to ankles. He doesn't pause to tweak your nipples (that's always annoyed you, the way guys concentrated on them, like they were some kinda fucking _on/off switch_ ), just cups and strokes with his big, warm hands. You take a breath and it comes out as a long, drawn-out moan. You open your eyes half-way to see Dirk leaning over you, a soft, dopey smile on his face. He pushes hair out of your eyes, strokes your hair back, smooths the heels of his palms over your cheeks gently. More kisses, soft, light, so fast that you barely have time to respond before he's pulling away and giving you more. His mouth moves down over you, more light, warm kisses. You can feel his arousal against your thigh but he's not asking for anything from you at all. 

He nudges your legs apart gently and kneels between them, places his hands upon your thighs and strokes again, firm and gentle, up to your hips, over your stomach and breasts. “God, you're beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “All relaxed and soft and sleepy...” He leans over to kiss your shoulder. 

He hasn't asked. You know he won't. But that morning wood hasn't gone away and you know it won't, and you are wet and warm and you want him. You slip your hands beneath his boxer shorts and push them down, wrap your fingers around his length, hardsoft warm, wet with precome. You look up at his face as he reacts to what you're doing. His eyes are closed, god his eyelashes are beautiful, and he looks like he's seeing God on the inside of his eyelids. You shift downward, pressing him against you, letting him feel how wet you are, and he keens softly, letting his head fall forward. You take some of that wetness, slide it up and down his cock. He makes another strangled noise, almost as if he's sobbing. 

You know why. Nobody much touches _him_ , either. 

“Come on, Dirk.” Your voice is soft, rough with the drinking habit that will make itself known later in the day. But for now, with the morning sun slanting down over his body, you don't want anything but _him_. You slide one hand (now warm) around and gather him forward. He doesn't thrust himself into you, he pushes gently, and it's the most amazing thing, and it doesn't hurt, and you are halfway to coming already. You adjust yourself to bring him deeper in and settle yourself around him, and stroke your hands down his chest, your fingers tracing his muscles. He's so _beautiful._

He leans over you, and you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his torso, and your lips are barely touching, with your eyes open, mouths open, breathing into each other. He holds himself up so he doesn't lie his weight on you. His arms tremble and shake, his eyes are dark, his breaths are soft gasps into your mouth. Tiny ghosts of kisses that never quite connect, lips that touch lightly, his tongue on his lower lip. You lift your head to capture his mouth at last, a trembling moment of communion, and Dirk's eyes slam shut, as do yours. Finally, pressure as his movements become more pronounced, as you push him deeper into you, and his arms come around you tight, tight, _tight_ as he comes, trembling, and reaches down to stroke you softly into climax while he's still inside you, taking the nipple of your breast into his mouth and works his tongue softly over it until you come hard, shaking and clinging. 

And then he's holding you, and when you stop shaking, he's stroking you again, soft and warm. “I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?” 

You shake your head. “You never hurt me.” You yawn, sleepy and sweaty and pleasantly achy, like you've had a long, pleasant walk in the sun. You put your arms around him and close your eyes. 

Soon, you are asleep again. 

==>Dirk: wake up

You wake up in mid-afternoon with Roxy curled into your side, her head pillowed on your chest. Her hair is warm and soft. She's shivering. 

You wish she would just fucking stop drinking. It's going to be difficult as hell to keep her away from the alcohol. You slide out from under her and tuck the covers around her snugly. You know that the firmer you pull the blankets around her, the more secure she feels. 

You pull on sweatpants and a wifebeater, and move quietly downstairs. This whole house is a disaster area. You don't think you can do this all yourself. It's overwhelming. You don't know how long she's been on a downward spiral. She covers well on the computer. You feel like shit for knowing this and not _fucking doing anything._

“This shit will not stand.” 

Five minutes later, you've arranged for four cleaning ladies to tackle every room except for the guest room and bathroom. In the meantime, you flashstep around, placing tiny webcams in every room so that you can keep tabs while you're locked in the guest room with Roxy. 

You set up your computer and check on Roxy, who is still asleep. You find clothes for her (sweatpants, sweatshirt, bra and underwear) and lay them out. There will be another bath for her. You might do her nails. 

On the other hand, if she's going through bad withdrawals, there might just be huddling under the covers and trying to keep her from shaking apart. 

He gave the standard warning: “Just clean. If it stinks, chuck it. If it's open alcohol, throw it out.” He had a stash of essential booze in the other room for just in case. “If I find that anything's missing, I will take it out of your ass personally. Work, work fast and don't make much noise.” 

You will flashstep around upon occasion if you need to, just to make sure they're not fucking with you. 

Around three pm, you begin to stroke Roxy's hair gently. “Hellooo Sleeping Beauty...” 

She opens up bleary eyes. “Hi,” she says, her voice soft and hoarse. 

“Hi, yourself.” Despite being worried about her, you can't help but smile. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like a nice puddle of well-fucked girl,” she says, voice soft and sweet, sounding almost as if she's never had a drink in her life. She looks up at you from her half-hidden face, pale eyes, pale lashes fluttering. 

“Glad I did something right.” You stroke down her spine, firmly enough not to tickle. 

“You do everything right,” she murmurs. “I'm the one who's the constant fuckup here.” 

“Hey, shush with that. You're my girl. Always my girl, no matter what.” 

She chuckles a little bit. “Dirk, you're _gay.”_

“Doesn't mean I can't have a girl. Besides, I guess you're the exception to the rule.” You give her a half-smile that she doesn't see. It's a strange, fucked-up relationship. She's tried and tried to make things work with other people, people who don't know about the game, people outside of you four, but nothing ever works. She drinks and drinks to not feel afraid but she's always afraid. Once she tried to tell the story of the game, but obviously the person didn't believe her and had reacted badly. 

(That particular care-taking trip had been nearly a month long, and you'd had to dig her out of a crushing depression, and tackle the drinking. You weren't sure you could do it, and it was a close thing.)

You, on the other hand, have lived alone since the game ended. Jake is adventuring. You don't know if he'll ever light somewhere, and you don't know if he'll ever love you back. Jane steadfastly tries to deny the game ever existed. You figure that everyone has their ways of coping, but it breaks Roxy's heart. She still talks to her daily, and can't talk about anything that means anything. Just everyday stuff, Jane's day, Roxy's day (which is usually lies, lies and more lies), and the new software she's just downloaded... 

Nothing that _means_ anything. 

And Roxy can't bear to cut her out of her life, so she puts up with it. 

It just fucking makes things worse. 

You lie down beside her. “I have people cleaning the house, and I'm going to be here for the next week. We should totally watch _AbFab_ and get our snack on, _sweetiedarling_.” You kiss her cheek.

That gets a smile out of her. “Can I call you Edina?” 

“If I can call you Patsy.” 

Ten minutes later, you are feeding her toast, eggs and bacon. The orange juice you've put in a martini glass has no alcohol in it and there will be no coffee for a few days. She needs sleep. No stimulants. You run your hand through her hair, which still hasn't been styled and is clean and soft. You are both laughing at the antics of Edina and Patsy, and you are both flopped on your stomachs on the bed. The two of you laugh, and you are waiting for the axe to fall, waiting for her to realize that she's not doing as well as she thinks she is. 

And then, after about two hours, she stops laughing. “I don't want to be her.” She hits pause on the DVD player. “Dirk, I don't want to be Patsy. And sometimes, sometimes I hear her words coming out of my mouth. Sometimes, I swear to God, I trip over my feet the way she does. The hairdresser did my hair like hers last month. I don't even have an Edina to stop me sometimes or be with me when I collapse in the gutter.” 

You roll on your side to look at her. “You have to stop drinkin sweetie. You know you do.” You have this conversation with her every time. But this time is different, somehow. 

“I know! But...it hurts so much, when I try. And it just feels so much better when I start again, so much warmer...” 

“You scare me, doll. You always have, with the drinking. You're going to get killed. Someone's gonna hurt you in a way I can't fix, baby. Say the word. Say the fucking word and I'll move up here in a heartbeat.” 

“I can't...I can't ask you for that. I'm not...I'm not a _boy_ , and I'd want you to be _all mine_ and you can't be all mine because you're _not,_ and I'm not, and...”

“Shoooosh,” you murmur, putting an arm around her and pulling her closer. “Since when has that mattered? Even if Jake were to come back today and tell me he was going to sweep me off my feet, marry me and take me away, you'd still be my best friend and my little Roxydoll and whatever you need me to be for you.” Even though you really do love Jake, are holding the largest torch ever for him, Roxy has become a part of your life that is inextricable. “Jake will just have to suck it up and get over it.” You mean every word. 

Her brow furrows. “Take off your f-fucking shades.” She doesn't wait for you to do it, instead reaching out to push them off your face herself. You make no moves to stop her. She looks into your eyes, and whatever she sees there makes her face crumple and makes her crush her face into your chest. 

You put her arms around her as she dissolves into tears. You find yourself crying with her, because you know how much it hurts, and you know how awful it is to be alone always. 

“I want a drink,” she murmurs against you, sobbing. “I hate this, I hate hurting all the time, I want a drink.” 

You shoosh her again, kissing her hair, holding her close. “Not today, Roxy. I'm here, cry all you want.” 

“Don't wanna.” She grabs your shirt in her fists, but continues sobbing anyway. 

“I know, honey. I know.” You cry with her, because sometimes, you just need to cry _with_ someone.

“I'm sorry, Dirk. I'm sorry. So sorry.”

“Sssh, you got nothing to be sorry for, sweetie.” You kiss her face: her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids, getting salt on your lips, her chin, the corners of her mouth, tiny little kisses. “I'm here now, I've got you, you don't need to be afraid.” 

She's shaking like she's coming apart, and this is what you recognize as withdrawal symptoms. Her teeth are chattering. You hold her tight, tight. “God, Dirk, god, please, I don't want to feel like this anymore...” 

“It's gonna be all right, I'm here, I'm here...” 

  


It's always awful the second night.


	4. ==>Roxy: Go to sleep

==>Roxy: Go to sleep

You cannot sleep. 

Your brain is far too wired to sleep. You get online and surf porn while Dirk is conked out. He's exhausted, poor guy. But right now, you can't sleep, you can't do much of anything except surf aimlessly online. 

You see Jane's Pesterchum lit up. You want badly to talk to her, to tell her everything, but you also wish you could forget you ever knew her, because it hurts it hurts _it hurts_ to not be _able_ to talk to her and tell her everything. Her denial of everything you both have been through is the ultimate betrayal.

But you can't cut her out of your life, let the wounds heal. Instead, Jane is still in your heart, and the hurt she dealt you (continues to deal you) continues to fester. 

Jake's Pesterchum is still dark, as it has been for over a month. He's adventuring in the Amazon right now, you know this because he talks to you and Dirk still, usually once or twice a month, to tell you where he is, to tell you both that he loves you, and that he'll be home soon. 

He's been saying that since the Game ended. He hasn't stopped traveling since. 

You want him to come home. You want him to get together with Dirk and and give Dirk the happily-ever-after that he needs and wants. Dirk deserves it. He would take such good care of Jake, just like he takes such good care of you. 

  


**==TG has started pestering GT==**

**TG: iknow houre offline**

**TG: *you're**

**TG: but you should come home**

**TG: we love you**

**TG: we need you.**

**TG: the game fucked us all up**

**TG: but the three of us need each other**

**TG: and you should come home**

**TG: and make a family with us**

**TG: please come home**

**TG: so we can stop feeling alone**

**TG: please**

**==TG has stopped pestering GT==**

 

You really do want to create some stupid family with him. Some weird, fucked up three way with two guys and a girl. They could take in cats and make food for homeless people and sleep all in the same bed if they wanted. 

You're too fucked up to have a normal relationship, too fucked up to do much of anything but be a burden and live off your inheritance. 

You really, really want a drink. You begin shivering again, and pull a blanket around you. And then you toddle off to the bathroom to throw up. 

==>Dirk: wake up

You wake with a start from the dream, the same dream every night, the one where you have a sword through your chest, to the sound of Roxy throwing up in the bathroom. You don't remember going to sleep, but you go over to pull Roxy's hair back so that she doesn't puke on it.

When she finally sits back, you wipe her face with a cool damp cloth and flush the toilet for her (after checking for blood, because that's happened before and it's never a good sign). “Well, there goes the first round. You okay?” 

She looks up at you. “I want a drink so _bad_.” He voice is plaintive but there isn't much force behind it. 

It's like an arrow through your heart, though, how much she's hurting. “Come on, baby. Let's get you some water so you don't dehydrate.” 

She's beginning to sweat and shake again. It's horrible and disheartening how quickly things turn bad with her. You know that she needs months and months of rehab. She needs help to overcome this that you just can't provide. And the fact you can't provide it kills you.

You are scared that she won't do it. Even for you.

So you do what you can for her. 

You take care of her again, this time in the shower. You get in with her. Sex doesn't solve anything but at least it makes her forget the pain for a few moments. 

==>Roxy: sleep.

You can't sleep. You _can't._

You are shaking and sweating and you have no appetite. You are so tired, so very tired but you can't sleep. You flop on the bed on your stomach while Dirk is out taking care of the housekeepers and getting them out of the house at last. He leaves the bedroom door open when he re-enters. “We're moving rooms now. I'll clean this up tomorrow. Tonight, we're going to your room.” 

“Okay,” you say, your voice muffled in the pillow. You shiver. 

Dirk sighs and goes over to sit next to you. “I saw what you wrote to Jake last night.” 

“Sorry I'm getting all up in your business.” You feel him stroke down your back and you shiver. 

“No worries, just getting the best matchmaking service in the entire multiverse.” He kisses your cheek. “As I said, if he wants to get with me...he'll have to get with you, too.” 

“Ooh, two boys all to myself? Whatever shall I do with you?” 

“I'm sure you'll think up some wonderfully devious positions and situations.” 

You sigh and sniffle and follow him mindlessly back to your bedroom. Dirk is entirely too optimistic, you think. You just don't think Jake would care for you very much. Not in that way. You wonder if he's still holding out hope for Jane. You sigh again, shivering.

You really, really want a drink. 

 

**-GT began pestering TG!-**

**GT: Roxy**

**GT: Roxy are you there?**

**[TG] is an idle chum!**

**GT: Well damn and blast!**

**GT: Look love it's a ripping idea but i don't think Dirk would go for it!**

**GT: He's a simply smashing fellow but i think he wants me all to himself!**

**GT: Though i would do it in a heartbeat!**

**GT: Come and live with you both i mean!**

**GT: I have to say that theres always been attraction there.**

**GT: I suppose it was just that its unconventional but then who cares really?**

**GT: That settles it.**

**GT: I'm coming home.**

 


	5. ==>Dirk: Be the Beautician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...there's more sex in this chapter. Go figure.

==>Dirk: be the beautician

 

You honestly never thought this would be one of your jobs. But it's turned out to be one of your favorite things about taking care of Roxy. Over the years, you've learned how to cut hair, give facials and waxings, do manicures and pedicures. There's just something about doing this for her that does something for you. You love touching her skin, even when you're doing a waxing, something about smoothing the strips on and the quick tear-off, how she winces and sighs, how pink and soft everything is after. You love kneeling at her feet and massaging her calves, ankles and feet, taking her fingers in your hands and smoothing her fingernails, making them perfect. She looks at you while you're doing this with her mouth slightly open, as if she just can't believe what she's seeing. 

“Ever do this for anyone else?” 

“Hell no. Mr. Dirk of Houston is a very exclusive beautician, with a clientele of one.” _Two, if Jake ever comes back,_ you think. You think green nail polish would look smashing on him. 

She's not well, but the shakes are behind her for now. She's exhausted, and you hope by helping her feel better that she'll relax and sleep. She leans back in the chair as you rub the ball of her foot. 

“Well, you'd probably make a fortune at it if you ever went pro.” She sighs and tilts her head back. “God that feels awesome.” She flexes her foot. _God._

You sigh. It really does feel good. _Way_ good.

Sometimes, you wish it didn't feel _quite_ so good.

==>Roxy: sleep

Sometime around noon on the fourth day, you pass out from lack of sleep. Your dreams are soft and disorienting, half wet-dream, half horrible nightmare. You keep waking up, once bathed in sweat, then shivering with cold. 

You recognize, in your half-awake state, when Dirk tends to you. You recognize his hands on your body and you recognize his mouth on your forehead. Your limbs feel heavy and your head feels stupid. You want him so badly, wish you could crawl into his body, into his non-drink-addled brain. He's beautiful with his messy pale hair (so like yours) and his orange eyes, and he's strong, not like you, not _like you._

“Dirk?” Your mouth is dry as sand. He puts a glass to your lips, and you drink. 

“Hey, Roxy.” His voice is quiet and thick. He makes a small sad sound and sniffles. You blink your eyes open. He's crying. 

“Dirk, oh baby, oh honey...” Now you're awake the rest of the way and go to hold him. You kiss him all over his face. 

He covers his eyes with one hand, embarrassed. “Shit, you shouldn't see me like this...” 

You haul him into your arms and wrap yourself around him. “Shut up. You see me worse than this.” You card your hand through his hair gently. “It's been four days and you haven't demanded one thing of me. Not one. Not that you would but _damn_ , Dirk. How long has it been since someone took _care_ of you, sweetie?” 

He shrugs. You climb on top of him, straddle him, pull his hands off his face and pin them. He's letting you, of course, he's stronger than you. “Look at me. How long. Has it been. Since you've been fucked?” His eyes widen a little behind their shades at how blunt you are. 

“Two years, six months, and twelve days.” He rattles it off, like he's been keeping count. 

“Christ.” You lean down to kiss him softly. _“God.”_ You kiss him again, grabbing his lower lip between your teeth. “Motherfuck _dammit_ , Strider.” 

He gives you a dopey grin and his hands clench into soft fists. “Keep talking baby, you're turnin me on.” 

You're awake now. You're awake now and you'll be damned if you're going to let him go one more day without being fucked. He looks up at you and sighs with a soft whine, and you get off of him and go and get what you'd bought for him after the last visit, disappearing into the bathroom. 

You are cold sober, and yeah, you want a drink, but for right now, for right now, you put that aside so you can concentrate on Dirk. The harness is awkward, but once you have the dildo strapped on, it feels good, really good. You're going to get off when you start fucking him, because the back of the dildo is right up against your clit. You slip a button down shirt over yourself and come out of the bathroom. 

You strike a pose, leaning against the door of the bedroom. “Whaddaya think?” You feel ridiculous but it's easier to do stuff that scares you if you ignore the fact that it scares you. 

He sits up, takes off his shades to reveal startled orange eyes and breathes, “Jesus, Roxy...that thing is huge...” 

You give him a trembling little smile and come closer. “I picked it out _especially_ for you.” 

His eyes are huge and he just makes a small, helpless little sound. “And now you also know why I had you blunt my nails,” you say, waggling the first three fingers of your right hand. He looks at you like he can't quite believe what you're doing and you feel pretty much the same way. 

“Roxy...you sure you want to be doing this?” The tenderness and want in his voice makes you go soft inside. 

You'd made sure to warm things up good before you strapped on, and you come close, the soft silicone of the dildo rubbing up against his belly. His breath catches in his throat. “Of course I'm sure,” you say, and place your hands on his shoulders, easing him back gently. He scoots back on the bed as you come forward, and your hands go to the waistband of his jeans. He whimpers softly and you lean over him and take his shades off, laying them on the side table. You kneel between his legs and reach into the pocket of your button-down for some body-warm lube. You squeeze a little into your hand, not too much, not too little. “Watch me,” you whisper, and you begin to stroke the dildo as if you're masturbating, you dip one finger into yourself, gasp, and continue over the dildo again. Your mouth falls open and you hear a strained, soft little gasp from Dirk. You open your eyes and look down at him, then you lean over him, leaving open-mouthed kisses over his body. He writhes and whimpers desperately against you, burying his fingers in your hair. He keens softly as you reach down and stroke him. Your fingers move lower, stroking gently around his asshole. His mouth falls open and you lean down to whisper: “Tell me how you want it.” You kiss his upper lip, then gently push your finger inside of him, stroking gently. 

He whimpers as you stroke him, and you tilt your hips till his dick is rubbing up against your strap-on. You feel him against your thigh and he's hot as hell, red and hard, he must be aching with it. You stroke your tongue against the roof of his mouth slowly. You are careful and attentive, waiting until you feel him relax before adding another finger. He yelps when you stroke his sweet spot, and his hand fumbles for you, falling onto your hip. “Oh, god, _oh god Roxy_ , Roxy, god...” Pleasure rushes through you at how desperate he sounds, at how he pushes himself against your fingers. 

Three fingers now, and he's almost sobbing. You push, in, out, slow and firm, getting hot and bothered yourself because of the sounds he's making and the rush of power ( _you're_ making him feel like this, finally, _finally_ , you're doing something _right_ ) you feel. He hasn't touched you, hasn't done more than clutch at your hips, but you are breathing hard, moaning with him. He's crying your name, _Roxy, Roxy,_ like he's praying. “Please, _please._ ” 

You rock your fingers back in gently and lean over. “How d'ya want it? Face-to-face or ass up?” You keep your voice very soft, very low. 

“Hnnngh, the, the second, _oh god_ your _hand_ in my hair and god, please, just...” 

He's adorable when he's incoherent. You withdraw your fingers very gently and he whimpers, and you help him turn over, arranging his limbs, stroking his hips as he positions himself. You get more lube, and slick the dildo up, kneel up real close and put your hands on his hips. “Okay, baby, here I come. You let me know how I'm doing.” You start pushing in, and watching his fists clench in the pillow is such a turn-on you didn't even know. You moan softly as the backside of the dildo presses against your clit in just the right way. He wriggles a little bit, making you gasp, then he tells you to stop for a moment, and when he tells you to start again, it's easier. 

When you actually start fucking him, you thread your fingers through his hair gently, but then he murmurs, “Pull,” so you do, gently at first, till he says “Harder,” and you do. He's whimpering, this big man under you, and he's so beautiful, with his eyes shut and his nose scrunched up, and his teeth biting his lower lip. 

You pant, because this is kinda _tiring_ , but you wouldn't stop for _anything_ , not with him looking like that and sounding like _that_ , and feeling like _this._ Your other hand slides around his hip to wrap around his cock, and Dirk shouts when you start pumping, his dick already wet with precome, and god, god, _god_ , he is gorgeous and he _sounds_ gorgeous and oh god... You thrust into him, your body breaking into a sweat and your legs feeling like someone removed the bones, and your hair is flopped into your eyes and your back hurts but you do not care, because this is the best thing you've done in a long, long time. 

You can feel him starting to throb in your hand right before he comes, his back arching and his body clenching and hot come spilling over your hands and onto the bed. You don't loosen your grip until he's spent, waiting until he's flopped down with you still inside of him before sliding your hand free. “Geddup,” he murmurs, his voice a lazy drawl. You gently withdraw from him, and as soon as you're free, you feel almost frustrated because you are wickedly turned on but you haven't come yet...

Moments later, Dirk has you pinned on your back with one hand to your shoulder. The other hand is fumbling with the harness, with the buckles, pulling it off of you and tossing it to the side, then leaning down over you, and throwing your legs over his shoulders. Before you can say one word, he's got his mouth over you, fucking you with his tongue, using the warm flat of his tongue to rub against your clit, and then sucking, then _humming_. 

You're screaming with an orgasm in no-time flat, and then he wraps himself around you and you tremble together, breathing hard and looking into each others' eyes like you're magnetized. 

He strokes your hair off of your face and then he kisses you softly, on your cheeks and nose and chin. You grin at him and giggle a little, and then he giggles, and then you're both laughing and shaking, and Dirk is tugging up the covers over both of you and holding on tight. “You're such a gorgeous mess,” you whisper. 

“You're a mess, too,” he says, and you giggle more when you hear how hoarse he is. 

“Did I do good?” 

“You are the best I have ever had, Roxy. Hands down.” 

“Your pants?” You grin at him again, and that sends you both off into more giggles. He giggles so hard that he snorts, and covers his mouth with his hand. “Aaagh, you are so cuuuuute,” you say, and bury your head in the curve of his shoulder and neck. 

“You are the beeeest, it's you,” he sing-songs at you. “You're going to have to teach Jake a thing or two, maybe.” 

You giggle. “Oh please, you'll love anything he does to you because he's _Jake_.” 

He nuzzles your neck. “Yeah, that's true. But man, that was incredible and beautiful and so great.” He strokes you, up and down your back, and you yawn. “Sleepytime for Dirk 'n' Roxy.” He pulls the covers up around you again and snuggles close. He yawns too and closes his eyes. 

“I love you,” you murmur, closing your eyes as well. 

“Love you, darlin.” 

 


	6. ==>Dirk: Wake up

==>Dirk: wake up

 

You wake sometime around six in the morning, and Roxy is still asleep, her arms slack around you. She's cried sometime in the night, and you sigh and dry tears off of her cheek. Letting her fuck you like that was probably not a good idea, but you'll help her out later. You sit there for a few minutes and stroke her hair, then lean over and kiss her temple. You smile and get up—slowly, you're sore, really, wonderfully sore—and you go to the other room to open up your laptop.

Your heart stops when you see green text in your Pesterchum window. You read and your heart starts beating again. You debate responding. He had been “talking” to Roxy.

But you can't resist. It's been several weeks since you've chatted. If he's coming home...you'll _really_ need to talk.

 

-TT started pestering GT!-

TT: Jake?

TT: Are you still there?

GT: Dirk!

GT: Heavens I wasnt expecting to have you respond!

GT: How are you old chap?

TT: I'm in New York, taking care of Roxy.

TT: Are you really coming home?

TT: And where is home?

TT: Do you mean the island

TT: or

TT: what?

GT: Oh hellfire is Roxy all right?

GT: Im not going back to the island.

GT: I cant run forever Dirk

TT: Jake. Goddammit.

TT: Are you coming home to me?

GT: ...

GT: What do you *want *Dirk?

TT: What I've always wanted.

TT: You.

TT: Safe and sound and whole.

TT: Here.

TT: With us.

GT: Us?

GT: Are you living there now?

GT: Dirk.

GT: What are you doing with Roxy?

TT: I'm taking care of her.

TT: You can parse that any way you like

TT: I love her. I take care of her.

TT: And sometimes we have sex.

TT: I'm in love with you

TT: but if you want to get with me

TT: …

TT: you need to get with her.

TT: We're a set.

GT: …

GT: Um. Thats quite something Dirk.

TT: Shit, are you going to judge me?

TT: is that a thing that's happening here?

GT: NO! Good god man.

GT: I'd be the last person...

GT: no.

GT: I just wasnt expecting you to say that.

GT: Because having sex with a girl

GT: wasn't something I thought you did!

TT: I'm not having sex with “a girl”.

TT: I'm having sex with ROXY.

TT: I love Roxy.

TT: And I love you.

TT: And if you would just

TT: come the fuck home

TT: I'd have sex with you, too.

GT: …

GT: You should see how Im blushing here

GT: but what isn't in my cheeks just headed elsewhere

GT: I think you know where!

GT: Dirk

GT: do you think this can work my friend?

TT: I will make it work

TT: I won't lose either of you

TT: I've had enough of losing.

GT: So

GT: when I come home to you and roxy

GT: where am I coming home to?

GT: should I pack a trousseau? * bats eyes*

TT: Jake, you gorgeous idiot.

TT: Pack your shit

TT: and come to New York

TT: she's got so many rooms you could get lost in them

TT: and we've just had the place cleaned.

GT: Hows Roxy Dirk?

GT: Is she okay?

GT: Will she be okay?

TT: Her trouble is that she's lonely.

TT: I think that with us around

TT: it might be easier for her to stop drinking

TT: but she needs rehab.

TT: I don't know for how long

TT: but I can't do this alone.

TT: I

TT: can't be alone.

TT: When she's gone, what will I do, Jake?

GT: Ill be there. Ill take care of you.

TT: Let's do this thing, then.

GT: Were making it happen.

TT: I'll let Roxy know. She'll be so happy, Jake.

TT: And then we can try and persuade her to go to rehab.

GT: I am so up for that. With both of us pushing at her maybe shell actually stay sober this time...

TT: I want that so bad.

TT: I love taking care of her.

TT: But I would rather take care of her because she wants me to than because she needs me to.

GT: Yes I can certainly understand that!

GT: And she needs to stand on her own. If shes going to deal with the two of us...

GT: Shell need all the strength she can muster.

TT: Come home, Jake. When are you coming home?

GT: Soon. Soon I promise. Ive got a few loose ends to tie up and Ill be there

GT: possibly by next week.

GT: I love and miss you both.

GT: I dont know when I started wanting the two of you.

GT: Im confused and tired Dirk.

TT: Go sleep, babe.

GT: Would if I could. But I should at least try. Good night Dirk.

GT: I do love you old man.

TT:

TT: I love you too. Good night.

\--GT has stopped pestering TT!--

 

==>Roxy: relapse

It doesn't start right away.

Okay, that's a lie. It starts almost immediately, but small. Very small.

Swallowing a little bit of your mouthwash every night, increasing the amount little by little. It's awful but it takes the edge off, leaves you marginally functional.

When you'd found the “emergency stash” Dirk had hidden, you'd closed the closet door quickly and tried to forget it was there. You know you _want_ to stop, you know he _needs_ you to stop. _You_ need to stop.

You don't go back the day you found it, or even the day after.

But when you wake up aching and alone, and your brain starts immediately with the _“what the fuck did you do?”_ and starts going in that vicious circle, you can't stop thinking about where the alcohol is. Your self-loathing thoughts stretch out to encompass everything in your life and you cannot stop yourself.

The vodka burns going down and it hurts when it hits your belly, but then the warmth spreads out and why have you not done this before? All the tension in your back, arms and legs that you hadn't noticed was there floods out of you and you slump against the wall, closing your eyes.

Oh god it feels so _good_.

Oh god you are so _fucked up._

Oh god, you _hate_ yourself and you don't want to see the look in Dirk's eyes when he realizes you're trashed. Your eyes are wide and you clutch the bottle to your chest.

You begin to cry. You are pathetic and worthless. You are _less_ than nothing, useless and hopeless. You'll never stop and you know it now.

You lift the bottle to your lips and tilt your head and let the alcohol burn its way down your esophagus. If it would only burn out your heart, and your feelings and finally, your brain, it would be much more useful.

Nothing nothing nothing. Feel nothing, be nothing.

You drink till you pass out.

 

==>Roxy: wake up

 

You can't wake up. Someone is yelling at you, though you don't know what they're saying.

 

And then you don't hear them anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm sorry.


	7. ==>Dirk: Wait

==>Dirk: wait

You'd found Roxy yesterday morning, completely passed out, and when you'd tried to wake her up, she wouldn't wake. You piled her into the car and driven like a bat out of hell to the emergency room, where they'd pumped her stomach and gotten her to wake for all of ten minutes. Long enough for her to tell you she was sorry, mumble something about being worthless, and pass out again. 

They'd tried to tell you to go home, but you had refused, instead dozing off every so often in a chair beside her bed. Late that night, you sat on the edge of the hospital bed and held her hand. “Roxy?” She didn't stir, and you sighed. You hadn't realized how much you missed having her around till she was unconscious and unable to talk to you. 

“Roxy,” you say, and you lean over her so that she'll be able to feel you leaning against her, so that she can feel your breath on her cheek, and even if she can't hear you, she'll know that she's not alone. “It's all right, Roxy. Just let me see your pretty eyes again. Jake's coming home, you're going to have that family you've always wanted.” You kiss her forehead. “I'm never going to leave you alone again. No matter what happens...” Your voice trails off, and you take her hand. “Come on, Roxy. Come on. Wake up, please. Wake up.” 

==>Jake: Try to get into contact with Dirk or Roxy

It's been a couple of days and you are ready to come home. You didn't want to wait any more, and you got the tasks done that needed to get done, delegated the rest, and began to pack. 

But you haven't heard from Dirk. Before you set out, you need to talk to either him or Roxy, you didn't want to just show up! 

Finally, instead of waiting for him on Pesterchum, you actually send a text to his phone. 

[txt]JE: jake are you around? I'm gonna come in tonight if you want. You haven't been on p-chum for a while

You lie down for a bit and wait. You must have fallen asleep, because the ringing of your phone wakes you with a jerk. 

[txt] DS: shit jake i'm sorry. Roxy had a setback. She woke up sometime yesterday but she ain't in a good way, jake. Were at the hospital. 

[txt] JE: what the devil happened?? 

[txt] DS: she relapsed jake. She drank a full bottle of vodka in a relatively short amount of time and was passed out for nearly a day. 

[txt] JE: I'm starting for the airport now. Can you pick me up when my flight gets in? I really want to see you. And then you can bring me to see Roxy. 

[txt] DS: I'll be there. I'm glad you're coming in. If you want the honest truth, I'm not sure I can handle this alone anymore. 

 

==>Dirk: pick up Jake. 

Roxy was in decent condition, though she was really quiet and not at all herself. You could understand it, but you feel horrible for not being able to stop her from drinking. I should have just gotten rid of all the alcohol. I should never have left her alone... 

You sigh and wait for Jake's plane to get in at the same small airport you landed in over a week ago now. You are tired and you don't want to think. You watch the small plane carrying Jake touch down and go to meet him as the stairs are unfolded from the aircraft. You're glad for the shades hiding your reddened eyes, and you're glad it's cool enough for you to wear a coat so that he can't see how skinny you've gotten. 

You haven't seen Jake in a little over two years. He's bulked up and his skin has darkened from his outdoor work. He looks strong and capable, the exact opposite of you. 

“Dirk,” he says, and the tone in his voice is so warm and affectionate, you want to cry. He drops his bag and gathers you into his arms tightly. “It's good to see you, my friend.” 

It feels good to be hugged by him, and you slouch a little, relaxing against him. He wraps a hand around the nape of your neck, rubbing gently. He pulls back a little, and cups his other hand over your cheek, tilts your chin up, and kisses you slowly. You feel it from your hairline to the soles of your feet. His hands slide around you and pull you close and tight. He runs his teeth over your lip and your knees buckle. 

He keeps you upright with his strong arms. “I'm here, Dirk. I've got you.” You hold him close, grabbing handfuls of his jacket. 

You hold each other for a long time, murmuring quietly to each other and kissing. 

“We should get back to the hospital,” you mumble. You're almost asleep on Jake's chest. 

“If you have a GPS, just put the address in. You look knackered, old man. I'll drive.” 

You are asleep the moment you get into the car. 

But Jake wakes you with another kiss, and you think that if he woke you with a kiss every morning, that it would be pretty damn nice. But you're at the hospital now, and the worry descends on you like a cloud. 

“Dirk,” he says quietly, “it's going to be all right. We'll find a way to help her. Come on, I want to see her. Does she know I'm coming?”

“She knew I was coming to get you. She said she'd try to stay awake till we got back.” 

Jake reaches over for your hand. “Let's see if she's awake, then.” 

You go into the hospital and up to her room, where you knock before entering. 

“C'min,” she says, and you can tell that Jake is surprised at how tired she sounds. 

You open the door. “I got a visitor for you, Rox.” 

Roxy's eyes widen when she sees Jake, and she smiles wonderingly. “Jakey! Oh, it's so good to see you.” 

==>Jake: hug Roxy

You do so, and gladly. But oh, she's so thin! And she's shaking. You feel as if she's made of glass and if you hold her too tightly, she'll break. So you let her hug you tight, and you close your arms around her firmly but gently, and push your face into her hair. “Roxy, I'm never leaving again.” 

That wasn't really what you'd intended to say but it's what came out. 

She tightens her arms around you and bunches her fingers in your shirt. She smells like hospital soap and tears. You don't care. You sit down on the bed next to her and just hold her for a long time. You thread your fingers through her hair and stroke. 

When she starts to cry, your heart just breaks. Dirk comes over and sits on the bed as well, and you all hold each other till Roxy stops crying. She smiles at you softly and then you can't wait any longer and you kiss her gently, a soft kiss on her mouth. You rub your thumb under her eyes to take away the tears.

==>Dirk: hope to God this takes.

You hope to God this takes, that this, right here, doesn't ever end. 

You hope you can get Roxy into rehab. 

You hope Jake doesn't freak out the first time you have a three-way. 

But, locked in a group hug with them, you have some reason to hope things will be all right.


	8. ==>Roxy: Make a Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry this took so long. I'm hoping that it goes faster from here! Thank you all for reading and being awesome commenters and stuff. 
> 
> Enjoy, babies. <3

==>Roxy: make a decision

You look at the two of them, your two boys. And you have that Moment of Clarity that everyone talks about, and if they weren't both holding you, you might have fallen over. As it is, when they feel you go slack, they tighten their arms around you and just hold you. 

You've got to fix this. They're here for you and Jake is finally here for Dirk, you've _got to fix this._

“I need to see the doctor,” you murmur. “Could you get me the doctor, Dirk?” You kiss his cheek and look up at him earnestly, then kiss his mouth. “I promise, it's not a bad thing.” 

Dirk nods, and Jake just wraps both arms around you. You close your eyes. 

“Are you all right, Roxy?” Jake looks terribly worried, and he brushes hair off of your face. His fingers are bigger than Dirk's. He's built bigger than Dirk, all broad shoulders and chest where Dirk is all lean muscle and quickness. 

“I think I will be. Just...I'm gonna hold you to your promise.” 

“I can handle that.” He kisses you again. “You're okay? With me loving the two of you?” 

“Yeah. I...I think I prefer it. That way we can all share each other and no one has just one person to go to. And...I think I need more than one person to deal with all my bullshit.” 

“Sssh,” he says, and just rocks you, and kisses your hair. You lean against him and put your arms around him, feeling him and his body and getting used to how he feels. He's warm and he smells like Old Spice, something else exotic that you can't quite place, and toothpaste. His big hands just keep stroking your hair. “I forgot how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, and you can feel him smile against your hair. 

Dirk came back in to find them like that, and he pauses in the doorway to look at the two of you. After a moment or two, he joins you again. “Doc will be here in a minute.” 

You nod then, and just rest until the doctor gets there. 

When he does, he looks at the three of you a little strangely, but says only, “So, what do you want to talk about?” 

You gently disengage from your two boys and look up at the doctor. “I wanna go into rehab. I gotta take care of this, so...please. What do I have to do?” 

Dirk's breath lets out in a surprised huff, and Jake just grins like a complete derp. 

There's forms for you to sign, a commitment pledge for three months in-patient rehab. “I hate to leave just when you got here, Jake. I'm sorry.” 

He kisses your cheek. “Just want you to be healthy and happy, Rox.” 

Dirk's just standing against the wall with his hands in his pockets, grinning like an idiot, looking at the floor, and occasionally watching you and Jake cuddle. 

 

==>Dirk: be cautiously happy. 

 

You can't let yourself be ecstatic or anything, because it'll be hard for her. She's been drinking almost as long as you've known her, which is a _fucking long time_. You hold no illusions that Roxy will kick the habit for good in three months. 

But she won't be alone. You and Jake can give her that. You hope that she'll be able to stand for herself eventually, and not need you so much to care for her. Even though you like taking care of her, you have to admit that you'd like to take care of her for other reasons than that she _can't_ take care of herself. 

Still, your heart feels raw, as if it's going to tear itself right out of your chest. You are going to miss her, you are scared she won't need you at all afterwards, won't want you around. You realize, then, that you love her and you want her, and you wish you could marry both of them because you _would_. You would marry both of them, you would love them both so much, till you died for the final time and didn't revive. 

You bow your head, pinching the bridge of your nose till the urge to cry passes. 

_This is a good thing_ , you tell yourself. _This is a good thing she's doing._

_Even if she doesn't need me anymore._

 

==>Be Jake

 

Roxy barely lets go of you as she signs papers and gets instructions from the doctor. She accepts everything almost meekly, and occasionally looks over at Dirk, who is leaning against the wall with his eyes shut. You know he's exhausted, and he looks troubled, too. You hope he'll come away with you, wherever you're staying tonight. You want so badly to take care of him and hold him and make sure he knows everything will be all right. 

You hope you're right about that. 

You've stayed away too long. You have to make this right. When she's finally done with all the paperwork, she's trembling and you wrap her up in a tight embrace. She closes her eyes and she looks like such an angel, her pale hair clinging to her face and her skin pale and her eyelashes...

“How did I forget how beautiful you are?” you murmur again, because it bears repeating.

“M'not. I'm a mess.” She snuggles her face into your chest. Her hair is so fine, so...so much like girl-hair, which you suppose is kind of a stupid observation. But she's different this way, and you'd like to comb her hair and do little tiny braids all over her head, with her laughing at him the whole time and calling him a big doofus. 

Which is what you are. You have owned this title and it is yours. You are the Doofus of Hope. Simply the biggest doofus, it is you. 

“Whatever you're thinking, stop.” 

“I'm thinking that I'm a big doofus.” 

“Oh. Well, carry on then. At least you're _our_ big doofus.” 

He chuckled. Her hair is soft, but it isn't clean. You wonder how long it's been since she's had a bath, how long it's been since she's really rested: you know hospitals are awful places to get rest. 

“Ugh, I just realized I need a shower. Sorry, Jake.” She tried to sit up on her own, to take her imaginary offensive self away, but you wrap both arms around her and shake your head. “Ew, Jaaaake...” 

Dirk gestured with his head. You look up at him. “Shower's in there. Jake. You should help her.” 

You just blink at him for a moment. He shrugs and says, “I'll be back. Going to get some coffee.” And then he leaves. You look at Roxy, who is looking at her hands in her lap and blushing. 

“You don't have to,” she says. “Dirk's pushing a little because he's scared this won't work out.” 

You look at Roxy. She's shivering a little and she looks tired and uncomfortable. You decide that now's as good a time as any to get used to each other. “No...no, I _want_ to help you.” You give her a shy little grin and unfold yourself from around her, help her out of bed. She's fairly strong but she's wavering a little on her feet. It makes you worry, makes you wonder if she'll ever be strong again. 

She catches the look on your face. “Is it that bad, honey?” 

“Roxy, it's _scary_ is what it is. We can't lose you, by gosh. Dirk would die and I'd follow, and then where would that find us? Dead and in dreambubbles, that's what.” You lead her into the hospital room's bathroom and find a new gown for her, clean underwear, and a towel. 

“Jake, you are _so_ melodramatic.” But she's not sneering at you. “I'm not going _anywhere_.” 

You turn on the shower, test the water, and when you turn around, she's naked. But matter-of-factly naked, not showing off for you. As if she's naked around you all the time. You take off your jacket and your shirt, so you can help her wash and not get all your clothing wet. 

There's a handheld shower head, and you hold it, and move it where she tells you to. You help her wash her hair. “Am I doing things right?” you ask shyly. You aren't used to being around a naked woman. Not that you haven't, just that you're not used to it! 

“It'd be better if you were naked.” You blush and she smiles at you. “Just kidding, Jake. You're darling.” That _really_ doesn't make you stop blushing. 

You wrap her in a towel when she's done showering. You can see her collarbone and her wrists look so thin. You take one of her hands and turn it palm up, press a kiss into the center of the palm of her hand. You help her into her gown, you sit her down and help dry and comb through her hair. 

It makes you feel warm and good inside, it makes you feel like a hero. You hold her close when you've put on your shirt again, and she presses a damp cheek against your chest. “Think we could go dancing, when I come home again?” 

You chuckles. “Well, how could I refuse, my darling Roxy?” 

“You could _always_ refuse.” But she stays there, her cheek against your chest. 

“But I would never. Let's get you back into bed.” You walk beside her, not touching her, just assuring her with your presence that you'll be there if she happens to stumble. She doesn't, but crawls into bed and snuggles down against the pillows. She looks up at you with sleepy eyes. 

“I'm...kinda scared, Jake.” 

“I know,” you murmur. “I kinda am too.” You push damp hair out of her eyes. “I mean...there's a reason I haven't stopped since the Game ended. But I'm done now. I won't go anywhere to explore without you two. And you're going to do fine, Roxy. You're going to try your best in rehab and if you slide back, we'll be there to catch you and pull you up again.”

Roxy gives him a look and her lip wobbles a bit. “I forgot how sweet you are.” 

You grin and shrug and wedge yourself in the space between Roxy and the bars of the bed. It's a tight fit, but once she's in your arms, you definitely fit better. She wriggles against you so that you're face to face with her sleepy eyes and her mouth, which you kiss soft and slow. She makes a soft sound that makes heat burn inside you. 

“I think,” she murmurs softly when the kiss is done, “that we are going to need a really big bed for all of us.” 

Your jaw goes slack at that vision: You, she, and Dirk, on a huge bed, snuggled together, naked... 

She huffs a soft breath of laughter and pats your cheek. “Roxy to Jake, come in...” 

You blush as you come back to yourself. “Uh, sorry.” 

“Just rest, okay? You must be tired.” She cards her fingers through your hair and it just feels so good...and you realize that you really are tired, that you've been traveling for about twenty hours. You put your arm around her and close your eyes. 

You are asleep before you know it. 

 

==>Dirk: return

 

You needed to give them time, without you watching them, time to get comfortable around each other. So you got coffee at the hospital cafeteria, sat sipping it and just zoning out as you counted heartbeats and minutes. You let your mind run free and range over a variety of subjects. You have a mental checklist, now that Roxy's going into rehab, of all the things that need to be done. You need to close up shop in Houston, you need to get everything transferred up here. You need to ask Roxy if she wants you and Jake to live in her house while she's in rehab. 

You are going to scrub the house clean of every drop of alcohol in the meantime. You're even going to find a brand of mouthwash that doesn't have alcohol in it. 

Eventually, you figure you've drunk enough coffee to float a toy boat, so you head off to the restroom, and then back up to Roxy's room. You find the two of them curled up together like kittens, fast asleep.

Welp. 

It looks like Jake's _comfortable_. 


	9. ==>Roxy: Go To Rehab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what it says on the tin. And Dirk/Jake shenanigans.

==>Roxy: go to rehab

You feel like a little kid about to go off to school for the first time but far more scared, if that was possible. You are so scared you can't do this. You are so scared you'll fail. But your body can't take much more, and you want to _live._

Dirk and Jake come in to say good bye to you. Dirk packed your bag carefully at home, and you open the small suitcase to see your leggings and t-shirts and skirts all folded in neat, careful squares. The socks and tights are rolled up around the edges and the shoes and slippers at the bottom, a perfect packing job and it fucking brings tears to your eyes, how pathetic is that? Still, you can't help but smile as you close the suitcase again. Dirk loves you. This is the way he shows it. 

You aren't sure if you can do this. Jake suddenly just can't take it any more and is hugging the stuffing out of you. He's so freaking cuddly, the big dork. “It's all going to be just fine, Miss Roxy. If anyone can beat this, by jigger, it's you. You're simply the best and bravest dame there is.” You bury your face in his shoulder (actually, his chest, how is he so freaking huge, how?) and it's so comforting just to have him hold you. 

It's hard for you to speak, so you don't, for now. 

Eventually, you release him, though, and look over at Dirk. He looks so worried and upset, and you hate to see him like that. He works so hard, at everything he does, and you hate to see him in pain. You go over and pull him to you, smooth his hair back, kiss his face and his mouth. “Is everything okay with you and Jakey? It's going to be okay that you live in the house, by the way. I want you both to be comfy.” You murmur this just softly enough for Dirk to hear. 

“No...no, it's great, really.” He pushes his face into your hair. “Just...gonna miss you, darlin.” 

“I'll miss you too, baby. I need you so much and I don't know how...how I'm gonna do this without you.” Your voice drops to a whisper and you clutch into his shirt. He holds you tight. 

“You ain't gonna be without me. Never. I'm always going to be there for you, even if you can't see me. I'm wherever you are, cos I can't be away from you either.” He kisses you, soft and sweet, and you still see worry in his eyes but it's not about you, it's about everything, and you can tell. Dirk tries to think of everything and now that this is really out of his control, now that a third has been brought in to this thing of theirs, he feels as if control isn't something he can have anymore and it frightens him. 

A knock comes at the door. “Miss Lalonde, we'll need to get going soon.” 

You make a small distressed sound and Jake comes up on the other side of you, and both of your boys hug you, snug, safe, and warm.   
  
They kiss you. 

 

And then you leave them. 

 

==>Dirk and Jake: Write letters to Roxy

Well, of course you'll do that! Eventually. 

But first, you leave the hospital in silence, feeling lost. Jake drives your car again, and doesn't really talk, as he's concentrating for the most part on driving on the proper side of the road. The two of you get out and go into Roxy's house. It's so _quiet_. 

“Dirk?” Jake is looking over at you. You look at him and in a moment, he's taken you into his arms. “It's going to be okay, old chum,” he says earnestly, and you chuckle at his terminology. The laugh feels good when it comes out, and Jake's cheek rounds out against your head when he smiles. 

“You're tired, Dirk. Come on.” He tugs you along to the bedroom you shared last night, too tired to do much else than kiss and cuddle till you fell asleep. He takes off your shades and you don't stop him, he takes off your shirt and unbuttons your pants and pushes you down on the bed, kneels in front of you to untie and remove your shoes and socks and to remove your trousers the rest of the way. The whole time, you're watching him do this, not saying a word and just blinking down at him. 

He looks up at you when you're down to boxers, and he tilts his head up to press his mouth to yours. Despite yourself, you make a small, muffled sound and thread your fingers through his dark hair. He puts his arms around your waist and pulls you close, laying his head against your chest. You'd forgotten what it was like, having his big hands splayed out over your spine, the slight scruff of his cheek against your chest. You'd been together before, briefly, before he'd absconded off to hellmurder island again, and then to parts unknown, contacting you only when he couldn't avoid it. 

You're kind of terrified he'll abscond _again,_ taking your heart with him, leaving you lonely and cold and waiting for Roxy. But Jake looks up at you when the kisses stop, and he caresses your cheek affectionately. “I will never leave you again, Dirk.” 

You swallow. He knows you so well. You feel like an idiot. “Okay.” You're suddenly so goddamn _tired_ , you've never been so tired in your life. Jake pauses, then shakes his head and then stands up. 

“Come on, Dirk. Let's take a nap together.” He pulls down the covers and pulls them up over you when you lie down, then slips in beside you after undressing to boxers and t-shirt. He pulls you close and holds you on his chest. “Sleep now. Everything can wait till you've rested.” 

You sigh against his chest and close your eyes. It's nice not to have to worry about anything for a while. 

==>Jake: Wake up. 

It's nearly nine the next morning when you wake, and Dirk's head is still pillowed heavily on your chest. He looks younger without the weight of worry on his face, all the small lines of his face smoothed out. He has beautiful eyelashes and such a gorgeous mouth. 

You'd _forgotten_. How could you have forgotten? Well, you certainly won't forget again, by Jove! 

It's a little scary, making a commitment to being around. You've made such a business of _not_ being around, of continuously moving, continuously finding new trouble to get into, new problems to solve. It kept yourself occupied, so you didn't have to think about things like threads of red pushing themselves into Jane's belly, kissing Dirk's dismembered head, dying and rising and dying again...and not just in the game, also in the time before, when you'd had to dispose of your own grandmother's body, when you'd spent so much time with only the computer for company, having to defend yourself against all sorts of monsters and strange creatures. Long, lonely days and nights and months and years. 

Quite honestly, you'd been tired for a lot longer than you'd realized, and it's obvious in the way you sleep like a stone when you're with him. Especially with him sleeping on your chest. You put your arms around him and hug him close to you. He makes a soft, sleepy sound and cuddles closer. 

“Good morning, Dirk,” you murmur, and shift around till you're face to face. His eyes are still closed, and he's got this sort of adorable half-smile on his face. You slide your hand into his hair and lean in, running your tongue over his lower lip. He groans softly and his body and mouth presses against yours. You tighten your arms around him and suck his lower lip into your mouth. You can feel his entire body shudder against you. He slides his fingers up under your t-shirt, and you help him take it off. 

“Oh, shhhhiiiit,” he says softly, smoothing his hands over your skin. He dips his head to kiss your sternum. You hum with pleasure before you stop him, gently pushing him over on his back. You remember how much he likes taking your weight, how he likes being pinned by you. You take his wrists and pin them above his head, circling his wrists with your big fingers. It's weird how you're bigger than him, but not stronger. You outweigh him by a good fifty pounds. He's so _beautiful._

“You're so gorgeous,” you murmur, and watch the flush creep up his skin. You grin at him and dip your head to kiss his chest, pale skin and light freckles and he smells so good, like skin and whatever body wash he uses and god it's going straight to your dick. You grind your hips down and he whimpers a little, breathy and trembling. You release his wrists and kiss down his chest and stomach, and his hands come to rest on your shoulders. 

“Jake, god...shit, please...” 

“Sssshhhh,” you breathe over his skin. You don't want to hear him plead. You pull down his boxers, pull them off, and immediately breathe over his erection. He groans and that's what you want to hear. You lick him, from base on up, swirling your tongue around the tip, then taking him into your mouth, sucking gently as you move back up. He's warm, the skin smooth in your mouth, salt-sweet on your tongue. He's trying to buck up into your mouth already, and you press his hips still into the mattress as gently as you can. He whimpers softly in his throat and his fingers tighten and slide into your hair. 

You work him over, licking and sucking, occasionally massaging sensitive areas on his body with your fingers. You let go of his hips when he gets really frantic, and he bucks up into your mouth. You're ready for him, and you fall into a rhythm, thrust-suck-lick, until he spills himself into your mouth and you swallow, humming happily around him. The vibrations from your hum make him cry out as he loses himself, and you're sure to slide your hands up beneath him, under his back, as you finish him off. 

He's so beautiful when he loses control like this, helpless and almost fragile. You would love to just do it again, and again and again until he falls asleep in exhaustion. You contemplate doing just that, but he's already shifting out from under your mouth and hands, coming up onto his knees to kiss you, reaching down to take you into his hand. Desire flares in your chest and you're suddenly so hard that you hurt. You tilt your head back, gasping, and he sucks on your collarbone. 

“I've missed you,” he says, and his words vibrate in your chest. You give him a soft groan, and you see this fragile shaking grin on his face right before he dips his head down and takes you into his mouth. 

You can't help but cry out. It's been _so damn long_ , and he's so warm and good, and you are going to _die_ if you don't come _right fucking now_. “Dirk, please,” you plead. “Dirk...god please!” 

He reaches up and his fingers find your nipples, rub over them firmly and that's it, you're gone, embarrassingly quick, quick and too hard, you see stars. He sucks, swallowing, cleaning you with his tongue, then wrapping you up in his arms, holding you close. You close your eyes tight and smash your face into his chest. 

“Been a while?” His voice is soft, and he could have made that phrase into something teasing, taunting, but it isn't. It's sympathetic. Loving. He cards his hand through your hair, holding you tight with his other arm. You just nod. It's been forever and a day. It's been harder for you to let go and just have sex with someone. Dirk's the first in a long time. 

He was also your last. 

Your heart feels as if it's going to melt inside of you, but Dirk just holds you close as you tremble and shake. 

“We are the two most messed up guys in the whole multiverse, Jake,” he murmurs against your hair, and you just laugh shakily. 

“But at least we've got each other, right?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” He strokes his fingers through your hair. 

“I know you took very good care of Roxy,” you say softly. “And I know that you feel lost. But I'm here with you and I'm not leaving. I _refuse_ to leave. And I'm going to take care of _you_ now.” 

You hear his breath catch in his throat, and his fingers tighten on your hair. You think, when he doesn't speak again for a few minutes, you worry that he'll refuse, blow you off like he does sometimes when he doesn't want to appear weak. But, after a few minutes, you hear him sigh out a soft breath. “Okay,” he says, very quietly. 

 

==>Jake: Take care of Dirk

It's not really hard to do. For the first few days, Dirk is on autopilot. He lets you tell him what to do, pick his clothes, make his meals. He sleeps a lot, and brings you with him. He holds onto your hand and talks and talks. You do too. It feels like you haven't talked to anyone, really talked to them, in ages. 

You lie in bed for hours, dozing, having sex, and talking. Sometimes, you barely get dressed for the entire day. Dirk doesn't like to be alone now, and he showers with you, and you wash each other's hair, even though you have to bend a little so he can reach, all the while grumbling about giants and growth hormones.

You have to admit, you're a little worried at how dependent he is. He's so _tired_ , and you feel as if he might need a doctor as well, and you are just about ready to broach the subject with him when he picks a fight with you, grinning as he trips you up in the hallway. 

“C'mon, English...let's fucking _fight_.” Dirk has his fists up and a slight upturn at one corner of his mouth. 

If he was tired before, he shows no signs of it now: his shades are off and his orange eyes are bright, and he's bouncing on his toes like he's just had springs installed in his shoes. 

“Fisticuffs, Dirk? Don't mind if I do,” you say, and aim a fist at his jaw. 

He _ducks_ , the little dickens, and laughs as he gets you back. The pain you feel when he slams his fist into your shoulder is nothing compared to the joy in the knowledge that he's going to be okay. 

 

Later, when he's applying ice to your bruises, he grins at you. “You okay?” 

You snicker and grin at him. “Pssht, Strider. I'm no pantywaist! I'm fine. Just...you've got a good left hook. I'd forgotten about that.” 

He grins. “Thanks, Jake.” He kisses you, very gently, on your split lip. You shudder and pull him in closer. 

When you release him, his own bruises are just a bit more flushed and so are his cheeks. You love to discombobulate the man sometimes. “Anytime, Dirk.” 

 


	10. ==>Roxy: work on your issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I hope I did the rehab thing right. I know it's not a good thing to go into relationships right out of rehab or even in rehab, but I really hope you aren't taking advice for substance abuse from the fic! If you are having troubles with substance abuse, please call AA or a doctor! 
> 
> Thank you for reading. This was actually never meant to be this long. It was basically a hurt/comfort fic idea that I had that got WAY out of hand. And it's mostly done, so I hope you enjoy the rest! :D

**  
**== >Roxy: Work on your Issues **  
  
**Well, not for a little while, because for a few days, you sweat and shake, and god you miss Dirk just pulling you out of yourself with soft touches, with hugs, with sex, so you don't have to feel your brokenness when you're not drinking. But the nurses who come in to take your vitals and monitor you, and occasionally pat your hand tell you that you're doing fine, just a few more days, the worst will be over; and you know it's a lie but you decide to believe it anyway. **  
  
**They're surprised that you're taking so long to detox, actually. But you've been drinking for as long as you can remember. The first couple days in the hospital weren't bad, but now it's going to take more than copious amounts of water to deal with you. **  
  
**And then comes a day where you wake up and you still feel sick but your eyes are clear, your head is pounding but you can think clearly, and you blink up into the early morning light and say “huh” before falling into a deep, restful sleep. **  
  
**After that, the real work begins. **  
  
**Group therapy is awkward for you. You can't discuss a seminal occurrence in your life, for one. **  
  
**For another, you couldn't help feeling like you _didn't belong here_. Here were people who'd been hit and abused as children, who lived in poverty, who'd lost jobs and wives and husbands and children.  You'd been wealthy and privileged your entire life, and sure you'd lost your mom but everyone does sometime, right? You shouldn't need to cry in front of people you don't know, you shouldn't bother anyone with your stupid little problems. You've got people who love you, after all, you've got support and hope. **  
  
**Sure you'd lived alone for a long time. Sure, even before your mother died, you'd been alone a lot. But you'd always had enough food, enough money, enough internet time to build the friendships that you had. **  
  
**And there was always enough booze to go around, right? **  
  
**But the bottom line was that you were useless, you didn't have a job, or any ambition to get one. You had no clue what you wanted to do with the rest of your life. And when you finally, finally break down sobbing? Yeah, a couple of people sneer, but they’re quieted by the counselor in charge, and there are more people sympathizing with you than not. **  
  
**When you lift your head, your roommate, a woman twice your age and in rehab for the second time _(for maintenance_ , they say, _because I need it_ , she says.), is hugging you, holding you to herself as if you were _her_ daughter, and stoking your head.  “You're going to be okay, little girl. You're a strong person. You'll be okay.” **  
  
**When she says that to you, you sigh and relax, and you can almost believe it. **  
  
**They have a set schedule for you to follow: a routine. You’ve never had a routine before. You make your bed each morning when you get out of it. You eat breakfast every morning, even when you don't feel like it. Especially when you don't feel like it. There are therapy sessions in the morning and group therapy sessions after lunch. You had chores: cleaning bathrooms, washing dishes. You had life skills classes: planning meals, balancing a check book, dumb things that you should know how to do already, but don't, or have forgotten how to do. You learn better how to deal with your depression and occasional anxiety. You learn to sleep early and wake early and slowly, slowly, your brain starts to wake up from the abuse you've bathed it in. You begin to heal. **  
  
**You don't remember how long it's been since you felt this alive and clear. **  
  
**== >Dirk: Write a letter to Roxy already, dammit. **  
  
**You’re doing it now! Geez! **  
  
**Of course, there are rules. You can't write to her the entire first month she's in rehab. It nearly kills you not to do this.  But eventually, you get to write to her. It takes you a few tries to get the letter just right. You could just have sent her an e-mail but you want her to have something physical to hold in her hands, something real that she can touch. Something concrete to keep, to know that he felt _this_ way, on _this_ date. Jake was writing his own letter too. He hoped it would help her keep going. **  
  
**_Dear Roxy:_ ** _  
  
_** _Hey there babe. I hope you’re doing well. Miss you so much, but Jake and I are getting along really well. We ordered a nice new bed for when you come home, real nice and wide for the three of us. Do you have any ideas of where to put it? Jake had an idea to put it up in the Observatory. That would be pretty fucking rad, but it's your house, baby._ ** _  
  
_** _I gotta admit that I get itchy hands when I think about you. I want to take care of you so much. I always knew I liked it but I never really realized how much I needed you to need me.  I sort of feel like I've let you down, taking care of you when you really needed rehab, when you needed more help than I could provide._ ** _  
  
_** _Jake is finding things to do around the house, stuff to repair. He's pretty good at it, and he seems pretty happy. He found some leaks and some drywall damage from rain and he fixed all that shit right up.  It's nice having him around. He keeps me from going bugfuck nuts without you._ ** _  
  
_** _I hope things are going well for you. I hope that you feel better and that you're okay about yourself. We talk about you, and how much we love you, and how we hope things will be when you come home.  I've laid out your things, all your makeup, all your hairbrushes and your hair dryer. I made sure your clothes are all clean and I ironed every fucking thing in the house. Not literally but you know._ ** _  
  
_** _I'm going to be so glad when  you come home. And I promise to not take care of you unless you want me to.  But I hope you let me sometimes._ ** _  
  
_** _Love,_ ** _  
  
_** _Dirk_ ****  
  
== >Jake: write a letter to Roxy

**  
**Dirk has to poke you to do that, because you’re really not a letter-writing person. Mostly, it’s postcards and text messaging and Pesterchum. But you can see the point. It might be nice for her to hold something tangible, especially since you haven’t been around very much in the past few years. So you write, bringing a notepad and pen with you as you go around the house, finding things to do. **  
  
** _Dear Roxy--_ ** _  
  
_** _It's been wonderful being here with Dirk, even if we both miss you a horrible amount. I barely got to see you before you left, so now I'm making a list of all the stories I have to tell you. All the things I have to show you and tell you about._ ** _  
  
_** _The little time we had to be together in the hospital wasn't enough. I miss you in ways I didn't realize I missed you before I saw you again. Now I just want to hold you again and pet my hands through your hair. It feels differently than Dirk's does, your hair is like...angel hair. Or something._ ** _  
  
_** _And now I sound like a dork, okay.  But you know that about me, so I guess it's okay._ ** _  
  
_** _I've been treating Dirk really nice so you don't have to worry about him. He's really kind of exhausted, so I've been making sure that he doesn't have to worry about anything at all and I make sure he gets sleep and that I tell him that I love him lots and lots._ ** _  
  
_** _He's really a stand up kind of guy, and he deserves it._ ** _  
  
_** _Your house is really beautiful, and I've been fixing things up a little. I hope you don't mind, but little things like pipe leaks can really do damage if left unchecked. There were also some windows that needed repair and stuff. But the trees! Man, everything is so green and gorgeous here._ ** _  
  
_** _It just...it's like home, Roxy. I can't explain it better than that. It's like the home I didn't know I wanted._ ** _  
  
_** _God, we miss you so much. I hope things are going well. We can't wait to hear from you. I love you._ ** _  
  
_** _Love,_ ** _  
  
_** _Jake_ **  
  
  
**== >Jake and Dirk: get a letter back already, geez! **  
  
**It takes a while because well, Roxy has a lot of shit to work through!  For the most part, she would be going through detox, and she couldn't be worrying about either of you two for that—only herself. When you finally get a letter back, addressed to “Mr. Dirk Strider and Mr. Jake English, Esq.” the two of you grin and give each other a high-five. **  
  
**And you settle in to read. **  
  
** _Dear Dirk and Jake--_ ** _  
  
_** _I miss you guys so much, but I'm really glad I'm here. This is really the best thing I’ve ever done and thanks guys for supporting me. I can’t wait to see the two of you again. I’m really looking forward to it._ ** _  
  
_** _I’m not even going to lie, the first couple weeks were pretty much hell. I think I probably cursed just about everything and everyone in my life EVER, so sorry about that. I take it back now. I was sick as a dog and boy did I just want you and Jake with me, to make me forget about the pain and stuff, but I really just needed to go through that._ ** _  
  
_** _It took me a long time to get comfortable with group therapy, too. It’s scary opening up in front of strangers, people who don’t know you. But it’s also not so bad when they don’t...I don’t know, laugh at you and call you a spoiled little rich girl or anything. Some of the other people here are actually pretty nice and supportive._ ** _  
  
_** _I have a routine now, which is pretty nice. It’s nice to know when to do things, good to know when things are going to happen. I think I’m going to have to establish some sort of routine when I get home, too. I’m also working on finding a focus for my life, so that I’m not just sitting around without a job, without tasks. I’m thinking of going back to school._ ** _  
  
_** _I like the bed in the observatory idea, and I’m so glad that you and Jake are making yourselves at home. Thank you, Jake for doing some of those repairs--I certainly didn’t know about them, and at least now they’re taken care of._ ** _  
  
_** _The doctors say that next week I might be able to use Pesterchum for a little while each day if things go well, and if I’m not too stressed. I’ll ping you when I can, and hopefully you’ll be around. No phone calls yet, I guess that’s more serious._ ** _  
  
_** _Wow, I miss you guys more than I ever could have expected or imagined! But I know you’ll take good care of things for me, and good care of each other. I’m okay here--it’s hard sometimes but I think it’ll turn out all right._ ** _  
  
_** _Love,_ ** _  
  
_** _Roxy_ ****  
  



	11. ==>Dirk: go with Jake to pick up Roxy

==>Dirk: go with Jake to pick up Roxy. **  
  
**Though outwardly, your face doesn't show it, you're very excited to pick up Roxy. Her letters have been so bright and hopeful and most of all, real. She doesn't sugarcoat anything. You've chatted with her over Pesterchum a few times now, both of you have, and sometimes it's difficult, because sometimes she's angry. But even though she's angry, she generally isn't angry at you. **  
  
**Well, mostly. **  
  
**She has said that she knows it's not fair, but sometimes she's angry at you for not making her get help sooner. She knows it isn't fair to you, and she knows you were doing what you thought was right. And sometimes, she's really angry at Jake for leaving them all. **  
  
**She's angry at her Mom for dying. She's angry at Jane for being in denial, and being inaccessible to her because of it. **  
  
**But mostly, she's worked through that, knows where the blame lies, (and yes, some of it is yours, and Jake’s, and Jane’s), knows how her behaviors started, but also how she perpetuated them. And though she's not out of the woods by any means, she wants to come home. She wants to be with the two of you. **  
  
**You've made her promise to go back in a month, to make sure she's going to be really okay. She agreed readily. She didn't want to go back to being drunk and numb most of the time. She's got a schedule of AA meetings to attend, and her daily schedule is highly regimented, but she says there will be plenty of time to laze around in bed with you and Jake. **  
  
**You think that'll be a good trade off.  You're both willing to work with her to find a good balance between the regimen and just lazing around. **  
  
**But today had to be handled carefully. You had to handle things carefully. **  
  
**You loved them both, and they had to love each other, too. **  
  
**== >Roxy: prepare to go home **  
  
**You pack carefully and quietly, all the clothes that Dirk had packed for you three months ago. You think about seeing him and Jake again. You think about being home again. You think  of the big bed in the observatory, and shiver. **  
  
**You sigh and blink yourself out of your little fantasy. You will see them both in just a few minutes, and hopefully, everything will be wonderful. Or, well, as wonderful as they could manage. Which was pretty damn wonderful, sometimes. **  
  
**You fix your hair and makeup in the mirror. Now that your mind is clear and unmuddied, you are nervous. Delighted at the prospect of being sandwiched in between two of your oldest friends, and nervous about it too. Glad to be going home, to eat non-hospital food, to be back in familiar surroundings—and nervous about it, too. **  
  
**And even more nervous when  you hear the double-knock on your room's door. And then you open it and two men come into the room and hug you simultaneously. **  
  
**The nerves dissolve, and you are home. **  
  
**“Roxy-doll,” Dirk murmurs into your hair, and Jake grins into her face and says, “You look simply smashing,” and you look back at them and beam. “Oh god, I'm so happy to see you two! You look so...well-rested.” With lines of tiredness that spoke of long, pleasant nights. **  
  
**Oh, you want to have some of those pleasant nights. You've _missed_ those. **  
  
**They each take a hand, and Jake hefts your suitcase. They stay like that during the short talk with the exit administrator even when she gives you strange looks. They lead you out like that. Jake loads the suitcase into the back of the car (which must be Dirk's, because it certainly isn't yours, and Jake would buy a Jeep, not a bright orange 1970's station wagon). Dirk hands you into the back seat, and then speaks to Jake, who gets in beside you and slides over, putting his arms around you. **  
  
**Mmm, nice.  Dirk starts up the car (which has a lovely grumble and vibrates like mad underneath you), and pulls away from the hospital. **  
  
**Then Jake takes two fingers, lays them aside your face, tilts your face to his, and kisses you. You sink into it, your hands curling into his shirt. You haven't been kissed in so long, and he's kissing you so tenderly. You feel dizzy and warm and soft. He puts one arm firmly around your back and his other hand slips up to cup your breast, his thumb stroking softly, teasing your nipple to firmness. Your back arches to him, and you whimper against his mouth. He reaches over and undoes your seat belt and you feel the car slow down as it turns down a quiet road. **  
  
**“Careful, you two,” Dirk says, and you'd almost forgotten he was there. You try to pull away from Jake's mouth to say something, but Jake just smiles at you and shakes his head. **  
  
**“He wants us to,” he whispers in your ear. “I want it, too. If you do.” **  
  
**You can't help it, all you do is nod. You're starving for touch, you want to crawl inside his skin and live there. He grins at you and dips his head to nip at your lips gently, a bunch of little kisses and gentle scrapes of teeth. You let your head fall back, closing your eyes, letting the dim sunlight play over your eyelids. Big, gentle hands splay over your back as he kisses down your neck into the collar of your blouse. You reach up to undo the buttons so that he can get further down. When your fingers start to fumble, his replace yours, deftly undoing buttons and slipping the blouse off of your shoulders, though not completely off. He pushes your bra straps down as well, pulling the cups of your bra off of your breasts so he can get at your nipples with his warm, wet mouth. You fist one hand in his hair, moaning, and he chuckles, the vibrations of his low voice going through you. **  
  
**You feel his busy hand slip up your skirt and stroke you over the fabric of your panties. You moan again, and push yourself against those fingers. His fingers are thick, the fingernails of them smooth, and he moves aside the fabric to press into you. You cry out, and it hurts a little, in the best way. **  
  
**“On your knees,” Jake murmurs, releasing you and going for his belt buckle and fly. You slide your panties off and your shoes, and you're bare to him after he pushes up your skirt. He pushes his trousers down to his knees, and pulls you close, stroking himself to full stiffness. He touches you to make sure you're ready, and helps you straddle his lap. The gentle struggle to find the right position to get him inside of you is wonderful, as is the sensation when he's inside you fully and you moan loudly, your voice shaking. **  
  
**You've never had sex with Jake, and he's a little bigger than Dirk, and it aches in the best way possible. You put your arms around his shoulders and look down into his face. He captures your mouth with his, both of his hands on your hips. You kiss him, breathlessly, and rock yourself in his lap. He pushes up into you. **  
  
**Neither of you say anything, and Dirk just keeps driving. He hits a small bump, causing the two of you to grind harder and your cry is nothing so much as an ecstatic sort of sob. Jake loops both of his arms around your waist and pulls you close, so that his face is nestled between your breasts. He catches one nipple in his mouth, and sucks. **  
  
**You let your head fall back, and you can barely hold yourself up any more as you start to come apart. Jake holds you close, though, sucking on your breast, his hands and arms around you, holding you safe, and he wouldn't let you fall over and injure yourself. He's thrusting into you, powerful and steady, and you're making loud sounds of pleasure with every thrust. **  
  
**And Dirk slows the car, and the road gets gently uneven, making the car rock, and Jake thrusts into  you, and you gasp, flying apart in his arms, crying out with your climax, and he keeps moving until he comes as well, muffling  his cry between your breasts. **  
  
**He holds you as you tremble, strokes your hair and pulls your shirt up over your shoulders. **  
  
**“There's a blanket in the back,” Dirk says softly, his voice quiet and trembling just a little bit. Jake reaches over and pulls it around the two of you. He's still inside you but softening and beginning to slip out. He helps you move until you're sitting wrapped in a blanket, and he leans over to pull up his boxers and trousers and grab your underwear and shoes. **  
  
**You're trembling too much to even think about putting them on, so Jake just holds you close. **  
  
**“...I want both of you in bed the moment we get home,” you murmur breathlessly. **  
  
**Dirk chuckles, a soft huff of breath. “I think we can arrange that.” **  
  
**== >Dirk: get home **  
  
**Yeah, you'll get right on that, besides, you have a boner that's starting to hurt a little. Roxy has managed to put on her underwear and shoes, but is more than willing to have Jake carry her indoors. **  
  
**There will be things to talk about, serious things, but not tonight. You grin at Jake, and Jake grins back at you, all flushed and fucked and adorable. Jake carries Roxy up the stairs and tosses her on the super-extra-large bed, plenty of room for all three of you. Roxy laughs as she bounces on the bed, and the two of you strip off in front of her as she leans back on her elbows and watches. **  
  
**You take off Jake's shirt and he pulls yours over your head, tossing your hat somewhere behind him. You fumble with his belt, and when he pulls down your pants and boxers, he makes a soft sound of want when he sees your erection. The sun is beginning to set, and the sky in the observatory is red and purple and gold, painted on his tan skin, and it's beautiful, so beautiful. You shiver when he gets down on his knees to lick you. **  
  
**“Oh god, boys, in bed _now_ _._ ” Roxy is kneeling in bed and is taking off her loosened clothes. “Dirk, please, god. Get over here, and Jake, behind me, you can hold me while he fucks me.” **  
  
**You look at Jake, and he looks at you. “Ohhellfuckingyes,” he murmurs, and hurries to get in behind Roxy, letting her sit against him as he sits up in bed. Jake grins at her and grabs her breasts from behind, making her laugh. **  
  
**“Diiiiirrrrrk, c'mere!” Roxy reaches out towards you and makes 'grabby hands'. You go over and she pulls you in, kisses you, sucking your lower lip into her mouth. Her hands are everywhere, and Jake pushes her forward into you. “Missed you, Dirk. Missed you so bad. Like...part of me was missing.” She reaches back for Jake, runs her fingers through his hair. “No offense to you—I missed you too, Jake—but Dirk's been here for me so much, not having him with me was awful.” **  
  
**“It's okay, Roxy. I know. Dirk's awesome.” He looks up at you, smiling and flushed, and Roxy lifts her eyes to yours. **  
  
**She reaches out for you, and pulls you close, and you cradle her face in your hands. Her eyes are bright, and her skin is clear. She looks lovely and healthy. You can't help but smile. “Lie back, Roxy,” you murmur, as you start kissing her breasts, moving down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her belly. You open your mouth and kiss her, running your tongue between her labia, and she wriggles helplessly, her noises muffled because Jake is kissing her, cradling her upper body in his arms, and she's clinging to him with one arm, and her other hand is in your hair. **  
  
**You huff a soft laugh and flick your tongue into her again. She's warm and sweet and tastes like Jake and like herself, and you have to hold her hips down because she's already coming apart, overstimulated and writhing, whimpering into Jake's mouth. You hug her thighs and suck gently at her clit. When she cries out, completely undone, it nearly startles you, but Jake has stopped kissing Roxy, and is arching into Roxy's back, because she's fisted her hand around Jake's dick and is stroking him. **  
  
**“Whoa fuck,” you breathe and Roxy tightens her hand in your hair. **  
  
**“Inside me,” she moans, “Please, Dirk, now!” **  
  
**You hurry to comply; you're so hard it hurts, and you yank your shorts down and she almost pulls you into her, she's so frantic. Jake is whimpering behind her, and you've got one arm around her, one arm braced beside Jake, and you're losing your mind, thrusting hard and fast. **  
  
**You feel something warm hit your side, and hear Jake groaning. You feel his arms come around both of you, and Roxy is turned on and moaning again, her fingers working her own clit and isn't that the hottest thing you've ever felt her do? She pushes against you, urgently, desperately, and you thrust harder. **  
  
**She comes again with a soft moan, and you feel her clutch around you, and you thrust hard once and again, and spill yourself inside her. **  
  
**The three of you stay still, panting, and you make incremental moves until you're all lying side by side, with Roxy in the middle of this sweaty, damp pile. You lie there until you've recovered a little bit more, and then you help the other two clean up, and pull the covers over them, get into the covers to cuddle with your lovers. **  
  
**Jake is asleep on Roxy's shoulder, his glasses askew, and you take them off gently, fold them, and set them on your side table. He cuddles closer to Roxy and sleeps on. Roxy looks at you with a blushing face and shining eyes. **  
  
**“You look so good, baby." **  
  
**She smiles, a delicate, shaking expression. “I'm so glad to be home...and...thank you. This...this was what I needed. Everything feels good now, and right.” **  
  
**You reach out to brush hair off of her face. “You're home now, as far as I'm concerned, everything's perfect. Go to sleep. We'll have all the time in the world to talk when you wake up.” ****  


She sighs, and you pull covers over all of you, and you all sleep, quiet, warm and peaceful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far. All that's left is an epilogue. 
> 
> Thanks for reading my smut-fest. if you have any questions, fic prompts, etc, I can be found at shellebelle93@tumblr.com !


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a long time in coming. Sorry about that, but having a bad bout of anxiety will do that to you. I'm pretty happy with how this came out. I mean to leave it sort of ambiguous, as now you can imagine what happens after this chapter. But this fic is FINALLY complete now, and I'm happy about that. Enjoy!

==>Be Jane Crocker **  
**

You are Jane Crocker, and you have _got_ to keep it together. **  
**

You have a lot on your plate! Not only do you run the family business, but you have an active social life and you do a lot of charity work. You don't have time for this.

You don't have time for this.

It's the middle of the night and you have just woken up with your heart pounding in your chest and bathed in cold sweat. You are shivering, looking at your reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, your soaked hair, your pale skin, sickly even in the kindest light of the overheads.

You don't have time for this.

Over the years, you've often prided yourself on pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. There was no need for therapy, not for you. You are always in control, always self-assured. So many people depend on you.

You. Do not. Have Time. For This.

For a long time you were able to put it out of your mind. Not that it actually happened in the first place, right? Because that was ludicrous, wasn't it? There were no robotic bunnies, there were no giant green beings with peg legs and pool balls for eyes. You are the chief and head of your company, not some space alien queen! You certainly never had your own _planet!_

You certainly had never  _died._

Ridiculous. Ludicrous.

“Buck up, Janey,” you tell your reflection. You put on a smile. “Press conference at ten, need to look sharp and sunny!” The clock read 4:13 AM.

No point going to sleep now. You can nap later, in the afternoon, when it was light out. So you get into the shower, and wrap yourself in a thick robe, and get on the computer. You still like a lot of the things you've always liked, only now you need to keep up with the latest Crockercorp news and business trends.

But you always turn Pesterchum on. Not that anyone really talks to you any more. Sure, Dirk and Jake and Roxy always say hello. But they've got something going on, and it feels weird talking to them, different.

Like you don't belong with them anymore, and you wonder when that changed.

 

GT: good heavens, what on earth are you doing up?

GG: hi jake! Mmm, just couldn't sleep. I've got a press conference at 10, kind of dumb to sleep now.

GT: Golly, it's awfully early to be up for anything that's happening at 10!

GT: did you have a nightmare?

GG: I don't have nightmares, Jake.

GG: You know me! Bootstraps Jane!

GT: ...you don't have to be, you know.

GT: We'd all still stand right by your side. Friends to the end, right?

GG: Of course.

GG: You guys should visit. I miss you.

GT: I know. We should. It's been a donkey's age since we've seen each other.

GG: ...you guys have something going on, don't you?

GT: ...you could say that.

GG: Fine. I don't want to know.

GT: Aw, Janey, don't be like that. Not trying to exclude you.

GG: Feels like it, Jakey.

GG: But I'm busy too. So what can you do?

GG: Anyway, I'm going to get off and start prepping for the press conference.

GG: Tell Dirk and Roxy that I miss them and love them.

GT: Okay, Janey. Love you too.

 

==GT has disconnected!==

 

Bluh. There's something going on.

But you can't really concentrate on that now. You have a press conference to prep for!

 

==> Roxy: Watch your friend's press conference

Of course you do. You watch every single one of them that you can.

“We should really tell her about our relationship,” Jake says, plopping down on a corner of the sofa, where you are lying with your head in Dirk's lap and he cards his fingers through your hair as you stare at the TV.

“We should,” you say cautiously, “but I think it should be in person. It's awkward over the phone.” It's awkward all the time. It doesn't mean you don't love your friend. But there's a huge elephant in the room with her and no one is discussing it, and it's green and looks like Lord English.

Dirk doesn't say anything. Generally, he doesn't because he's thinking, always thinking, always following every possible outcome. But you know that he's being thoughtful right now, his fingers heavy on your scalp as he strokes your hair.

Jake sighs. “She knows we're keeping something from her...”

You flap your hand at him. There's time for discussing that later. “Sssh! It's starting!”

Janey looks good. Years have not taken the round sweetness from her face, and blue still looks fabulous on her. You sigh. You really miss her terribly. It's been years since you've all been together, and fewer years since you've seen her, but it's still been too many.

She's lovely. She fields questions like she was born to do it, and her smile never wavers. Though she looks more tired today than she usually does. There are noticeable lines around her eyes, which is strange because usually the makeup people hide them.

“Miss Crocker, I've been a big fan of yours for years.” Laughter. She hasn't been head of the company for _that_ long, and the reporter knows it. “Tell me, how would one submit a recipe for consideration to your company?”

You watch as Jane...doesn't reply. She looks...ill. Sweaty and tired and behind her glasses, her eyes are glassy and unfocused. Her expression looks pained and lost, and she looks around as if she doesn't know where she is.

“Miss Crocker?” the reporter asks uncertainly.

“...Roxy?” she murmurs dazedly.

You sit up abruptly, almost clocking Dirk in the chin, just in time to see Jane collapse behind the podium. The room erupts and you can't see Jane any more and the three of you are on your feet in front of the TV, as if that will help you see any better.

And then the transmission cuts out, going to a clip of the newsroom.

“No!” you cry, you can't help yourself. Dirk has his hands on your shoulders. “We gotta... We gotta go, like now, she _asked_ for me, she _needs_ me...”

“Settle, Roxy. We'll go. I'll call the airport. Jake, get the car gassed up.” He's holding you firmly around the shoulders, you can feel his mouth against your cheek. You know that no matter what happens, he and Jake will be there for you, and that helps. Your heart stops hammering in your chest.

“I'll pack for us,” you say, and head off to your room at the top of the stairs in the observatory to pack. You don't know how long you'll be gone but you'll do laundry if you have to, so you pack enough clothing for five days.

If there's one thing the three of you do well, it's mobilize. You're out of the house in an hour, and wheels up in two. Dirk flies the small plane, and Jake co-pilots, and you...worry. You're on your laptop, searching for information. You follow up every lead but no one knows anything much. There's all sorts of speculation on who “Roxy” is, but no one has connected the dots to you.

You just hope that you can get in to see her. You begin making calls: to Crockercorp HQ, then you talk to lawyers and finally, her personal assistant and you give her all the information you can: you're old friends with Jane, you know that her e-mail password is “mustache”, you know the precise time and date she was born, that she has a birthmark on her hip and what it looks like, you talk and talk and talk till they agree to send a car at the airport for you.

Because apparently, she is awake now and begging for you. She won't talk or stop crying except to call for you, for Dirk, for Jake.

The personal assistant sounds terribly young, and very freaked out. You can hear Jane sobbing in the background. “Tell her I'm on the phone. Tell her I'll be there soon.”

The next thing you know, Jane is on the phone, sniffling and breathing through her mouth because her nose is probably stuffed pretty badly.

“Roxy?” she asks, and she sounds so _lost_ and forlorn, and you ache.

“Hey, Jane. We're gonna be there soon, okay? Me and Dirk and Jake. We'll all be there and we'll be together and you won't be alone...”

“Roxy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I was just so _scared_ and I remember _everything_ and I'm so so sorry...”

“Ssssh...” You keep your voice low and shoosh her. “Sweetie, wait till we get there and we'll all talk and it'll all be all right.”

You keep talking to her as you disembark from the small plane and get into the waiting Crockercorp car. You talk to her, just reassurances, you'll be there, you'll all be there and it'll be okay. Jake takes over and you can hear her laugh at him over the phone when he tells her something funny and that lets you know, yes, she'll be okay.

 

==>Jane: reunite with your friends

You have calmed down, even though you are still upset. There's only so much one can cry, only so much panicking and screaming before you just...can't anymore. Your personal assistant is downstairs making sure you aren't disturbed until your friends get there.

You're remembering. You're remembering too much, and it hurts, but now that the gate was opened, you can't _stop_. You can't breathe. You can't move.

You are hiding underneath your vanity table.

You are taking tiny tiny little panicked breaths, and, as a result, you keep seeing tiny sparkles around the edges of your vision. Your fingers and nose are cold.

There's a soft knock on the door. “...Janey?”

“Roxy?” Your voice is so _tiny_ and you are trembling like a road sign in a windstorm.

She doesn't wait for you to say 'come in', she just opens the door and you watch her as she comes in, looking for you, spying you under the table, and immediately going to her knees and pulling you out from under your vanity and into her arms. You start crying again, clinging to her shirt with your fists. “I'm sorry,” you sob. “I'm sorry, Roxy, I'm sorry.”

“Sssh,” she tells you. “Shoosh. It's okay, Janey. I'm here now. You aren't alone.”

You can't help yourself, you cry yourself out on her shoulder and when you finally raise your head, the boys are there too and you'd almost start crying _again_ if you weren't so happy to see them. You let Roxy go so that you can hug both of them at once, and you feel their arms come around you and they hold you tight, tight.

You're so tired all of a sudden, because for the first time in you don't know how long, you're relaxing.

“Steady there, old girl,” Jake murmured, kissing her cheek. “Steady, Janey.” He's always been strong, and he and Dirk help you into a chair. Dirk crouches down in front of you, looking through his shades up into your eyes.

“...Think you're going to be okay?” His hand was warm, steady on yours.

You're shaking and your lips quiver. But you nod. You think you just might be okay now.

 

~*~

 

They tell you everything. How they've been living together, all of them, together. About how they take care of each other, about how they're working on Roxy's drinking problem. About how much they love each other.

About how much they love you.

You aren't sure you want to be part of this...strange polyamorous thing they've got going but they shrug. “You don't have to,” Roxy says. “You're our friend. We just want you to be happy.”

And at night, Roxy leaves the boys to sleep by themselves, and she sleeps in your bed, and...the years seem to fall away as you lie together, talking quietly.

“I'm sorry,” you say at the last, tired of talking and tired of emotion, “I'm sorry I denied everything, and stayed away for so long. I'm tired of being alone.”

She takes your hands in hers with warm fingers and kisses them with a smile. “It did hurt me. But that is over now. You don't ever have to be alone if you don't want to be. We can keep on traveling, we have the money. We could be a bi-coastal family, no problem.”

You hardly pause to think about it. “With you. I don't want to be alone, please?” You take a breath. “I can't stand to be alone any more.”

“Of course. Come stay with us for a while. You're allowed to take a sabbatical, right?”

“I...think so.” You never thought you'd want to take one, but it's looking very necessary. You feel as if you want to sleep for a hundred years, and relearn what it was like to have friends again.

 

==>Jane: Welcome Home

 

It had taken you a while to put things in order so that you could leave for a while. You'd had to put someone else in charge for the time being, you'd had to make arrangements and plans, you'd had to find people to care for your house. And then packing, packing was exhausting, though Roxy had helped you. Dirk and Jake had gone on back home to make a room ready for you, but Roxy had stayed, helping you pack, supporting you with your arrangements.

And you were all too glad to board a plane next to Roxy, flying to New York State. You slept on the flight and dreamed that you weren't alone, even through the nightmare of the Game.

You woke up with Jake and Dirk waiting for you with a car, and a sign that said “Welcome Home, Jane”. Roxy squeezes your hand.

And for the first time in a long time, you are at peace.

 


End file.
